


Irresistible Force

by Iwao



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Minor Violence, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwao/pseuds/Iwao





	1. Chapter 1

_”The Teumessian fox was destined never to be caught. The magical dog Laelaps, was destined to catch everything it chased. Zeus, faced with an inevitable contradiction due to the paradoxical nature of their mutually excluding abilities, turned the two beasts into stone. The pair were cast into the stars, and will remain there forever more.”_   
  


*****

  


He ran. She chased. That’s how it was and how it had always been. Her very nature guaranteed that she would catch him. And his, that she would not.

  
  


*****

  
  
  
**London, 13th April 2003**   


Hermione looked up as Harry entered her office. The five years elapsed since the fall of Voldemort had been kind to him. His unruly mop of hair still fell boyishly over his eyes, hiding that distinctive scar that had now faded to a faint silvery scratch. His eyes sparkled a beautiful bright green behind his glasses and he looked dashing in his Auror robes. But what Hermione noticed the most was how much his demeanour had changed. Gone was the beleaguered, tense I-carry-the-weight-of-the-world-on-my-shoulders look. Nowadays Harry stood tall, happy and carefree.   
  
  
“Hermione, I just heard you were back!” Harry enveloped her in a bear hug, a huge smile on his face. “Are you going to stay for a while? Can’t believe how long you were away this time!”  
  
“Hey, it wasn’t that long! One or two months at the most-“  
  
“Try two months and three weeks.”  
  
“Really? Well, time flies. Anyway, I don –“  
  
“Are you okay? What happened? Everybody was convinced you would catch him this time. This is not like you at all. You always get them. Always. What is it about this one, Hermione? You’ve been after him for years now!”  
  
Hermione let out a big sigh, her shoulders slumping tiredly. Harry thought she looked haggard; she had lost weight and had dark smudges under her eyes.  
  
“I don’t know, Harry. He always seems to be one step ahead of me. My support network is good, and I don’t tarry. In fact, I almost had him in Barcelona. He was staying in the Wizarding Mandarin Oriental’s penthouse, for Merlin’s sake! When I finally made it into the suite, he had just Apparated away. His scent still lingered, Harry, it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes before I got there! Bloody hotel management and bloody language barrier. They wouldn't let me use anti- Disapparition wards. Bloody wankers, the lot of them.”  
  
  
Harry made a sympathetic sound, commiserating with her.   
  
  
“Don’t take me wrong. I know I’ll catch him in the end. It’s just taking a bit longer than expected, that’s all. When you arrived, I was putting out feelers; it won’t be long before one of my informants tips me off.” Hermione combed her fingers through her hair, then dragged her hands down her face, tiredly. “I’m off to Armenia tomorrow. Dolohov has been sighted there.”  
  
“Hermione, you can’t be serious. You just got here! This is ridiculous. We never see you anymore. You don’t date, you don’t socialise, in fact, you don’t have a life! This has to stop. Tell Shacklebolt to send somebody else.”  
  
“I can’t! I’m the best and you know it. Anyway, this will not take long. I’ll be back in plenty of time for Teddy’s birthday.”

  
  


*****

  
  
  
**London, 5th June 2003**   


_Her body was on fire. Her thighs trembled as she felt the broad of his tongue licking her wetness. He sucked hard on her clit, and she felt fingertips caressing her, lightly stroking her folds, opening her up._  
  
“Stop,” she moaned, “please, this is not what I want. I want you inside me. I need to feel you, all of you. I need to know that you want me.”   
  
He groaned on her clit, and the vibrations sent shockwaves to her centre. With a last loving kiss to her mons, he crawled up her body, cleaning his face with the back of his hand. Looking into his eyes, she urgently sought his lips, desperately needing him.   
  
“Make love to me.” The hunger in her voice made him burn with desire.  
  
Hermione woke up breathless.

  
  


*****

  
  
  
**Corfu, 19th June 2003**   


“Finnigan, Jordan, assume your positions.” Hermione’s voice was merely a whisper. They were in the north- east coast of Corfu, near the village of San Marco. Hermione had received a tip from one of her informants, assuring her that Malfoy had been staying there for the last couple of weeks. The address she had been given was of a secluded villa on a hillside, overlooking the sea. The house was charming in a wholesome sort of way, if a lot smaller than Hermione would have expected considering Malfoy’s extravagant taste; that would work in her favour, though it seemed to be heavily warded. The three of them had been watching it for the best part of an hour without detecting any movement.   
  
The unrelenting heat and scorching sun was getting to her; she was hot, sweaty and irritable; after disabling the wards, making a note of each one’s nature and incantation to put them up again and setting up anti-Disapparition wards, Hermione decided to throw caution to the wind and enter the property.  
  
Finnigan took position at the back of the house, in a shaded archway near the pool; Lee sneaked in through the back door to find a waiting spot within the main body of the property and Hermione decided to enter via a higher level wooden bridge that joined the tower to the gardens.   
  
Slowly and cautiously, Hermione crossed the bridge and approached the half-open door to the tower. The view of the room beyond was obscured by a set of stairs leading to the roof terrace, but she could tell there was somebody there. Listening intently she was surprised, then curious, at the kind of sounds she was hearing. There was a peculiar slapping noise that for a minute bizarrely reminded Hermione of cleaning the carpets at her Grandmother Granger’s house. She almost chuckled out loud at the thought of Malfoy beating carpets. And then…  
  
“Ohhh, yess, Drake, right there, don’t stop!!”   
  
Hermione almost dropped her wand. _Bloody buggering hell!_    
  
A bout of heavy panting. High pitched squeals and  _yes, yes, yes!_  And then a litany of low grunts and deep moans. Hermione smiled from ear to ear.  _I’ve got him!_  
  
  
She rounded the staircase, wand at the ready and an Incarcerous on the tip of her tongue. And then she froze.  
  
  
She was in a large circular bedroom, painted in the brilliant blue of a Mediterranean sky. The floors, ceiling and woodwork were all different shades of white, as were the billowy drapes and most of the furniture. It was like stepping into a painting, the perfect symmetry of the room only marred by the staircase she had used for concealment. She was standing slightly behind and to the left of a bed that faced a great bay window with a view to the Ionian Sea. Malfoy was lying on top of a dark haired woman, pounding steadily into her. His long, lean body flushed and hard, head buried in the crook of her neck. The blinding radiance of the Greek sun bathed the scene in a surreal light.   
  
Her eyes slowly wandered down his body, taking in his mussed damp hair, the broadness of his shoulders. His smooth back. His narrow waist and hips, his perfect skin. The play of light and shadow on the muscles of his buttocks as they contracted and relaxed in rhythm with his thrusts, mesmerized her. He was lying almost flush with the girl, only their hips joining and separating, joining and separating like crashing waves, the pace increasingly frantic.   
  
Hermione felt breathless, a curious throbbing between her legs escalating with each thrust. Her knickers were getting progressively soaked and she felt a dire compulsion to touch herself. The sounds he was making were piercing her core.   
  
Then she saw his body tensing up, arching off the girl as he threw his head back. With his eyes shut tight and his mouth open in a silent scream, he came. And Hermione whimpered.

  
  


*****

  
  


Draco needed to come. Karen -Karena- was driving him to distraction with her squeals. He could feel his balls tightening and the scorching heat of his impending climax burning a path from somewhere deep inside his ass all the way to his cock.  _Oh, I’m going to come… need to... Fuck… Ah..Uhhng!_  His body arched hard and he closed his eyes, as the burning turned into incredible pleasure and then he was shooting that fire out, striving to get as far inside the girl as he possibly could. Just as he felt the last spasms trail off and was about to let himself flop on top the girl, he heard a… whimper? - somewhere in the room.  
  
His head shot sharply to the right towards the sound as he opened his eyes, still buried inside the girl.  _Oh, for Salazar’s hairy balls! What the fuck is Granger doing here?!_  
  
  
She seemed rooted to the spot, and in a fraction of a second, he took in her flushed face and dilated pupils. The blush extended down her neck to her breasts, and he could clearly see the hard peaks of her nipples through the thin cotton of her top. She was panting slightly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. His eyes widened.  
  
 _She wants me! Oh, this is priceless._  Grabbing his wand from under the pillows, he withdrew his softening cock and in the same motion jumped out of the bed, dragging with him the bemused girl he had been fucking. He held her as a shield in front of his naked body, wand trained on her temple. Something flickered in Granger’s eyes and her body tensed in alertness.  
  
“Back off, Granger.” he snarled. “Take down the anti-Disapparition wards or the girl will get hurt. Now!”  
  
Hermione had regained her wits, enough to appreciate the gravity of the situation. The woman stared uncomprehendingly at Hermione, then at her wand. She looked bewildered, not scared.  _A Muggle,_  Hermione thought.  
  
“Malfoy, don’t be daft. The house is surrounded. You cannot escape. We have been playing this game of cat and mouse for far too long already. Let the girl go and we’ll sort this out between the two of us.”  
  
He gave a bark of a laugh. “Yeah, I can see the kind of sorting you want to have. Enjoyed the show, Granger? Horny, much? I can smell your arousal.”   
  
Hermione blushed angrily. “Don’t flatter yourself, Malfoy. Let the girl go.”  
  
His sneer deepened. “Not in your life. Now, do as I say. You know very well what I’m capable of.”  
  
He could almost see the cogs in Granger’s brain working at full speed. _She’ll try to trick me,_  Draco thought.  
  
“Granger, don’t even think about it. I’m taking her with me. And if, by any chance, we are unable to Disapparate or end up Splinching, I will not hesitate.”  
  
  
Hermione saw his grip tightening on the wand. She made a decision. With an angry, frustrated growl, she took down the ward.  
  
“Thank you, Granger.” He shoved the girl forwards hard, and with a wink and a smirk, naked as the day he was born, he turned and Disapparated.  
  
  
  
 _Oh, for Godric’s sake. I hate Obliviating!_

  


*****


	2. Chapter 2

**London, 20th June 2003**   
  


Hermione looked up as Harry entered her office. He gave her an anxious smile while running his fingers repeatedly through his hair.  _He’s worried,_ Hermione thought. She returned the smile falteringly.  
  
“What a fiasco.”  
  
“You can say that again.”  
  
“And the girl?”  
  
“Mungo’s.”  
  
“But how on earth did you end up violating the Statute of Secrecy, Hermione? And injuring a Muggle in the process!”  
  
“That was accidental, Harry! The whole point in Obliviating her was damage control. How was I supposed to know she would react that badly to a simple Memory Charm?”  
  
“But that is it, Hermione. According to Seamus and Lee, you went in before you verified that the house was empty, or failing that, that Malfoy was alone. You should have hidden and waited till the Muggle left. You know how it works, Hermione!”  
  
“Don’t you tell me how to do my job, Harry! You weren’t there! We watched the house for a long time –“  
  
“Not even an hour, apparently.”  
  
“I was sure the house was empty! We went in to hide and wait… Look, just leave it; I’m angry enough as it is. The whole point of letting Malfoy get away was to keep him from harming the Muggle girl. And then I go and hurt her myself. How do you think I feel? Having to allow him to slip through my fingers for nothing? I was so close, Harry, so close…”  
  
“I see. So that is your main concern. That you let him get away. Not the fact that you injured an innocent, or that you did a clumsy job.”  
  
“Harry, I didn’t say-“  
  
“Do you know what I think, Hermione? I think you are losing perspective. No, hear me out. Your fixation with Malfoy is becoming an obsession and clouding your judgement -”  
  
“How can you say that? I’m not more fixated on him than I would be on anyone else, -“  
  
“- so that you are becoming careless in your haste to _”  
  
“- he’s just proving more difficult to catch and it angers me, that is all!”  
  
“Exactly! And angry people make mistakes! I think you should give his case to somebody else, Hermione. Distance yourself from it, physically and mentally. Then in a few months, if nobody has managed to apprehend him, you can re-take it where you left. With a clear head, I might add. Do you want me to speak to Shacklebolt -”  
  
“Back off, Harry! Malfoy is mine, and I will be the one to bring him to his knees. I love you, Harry, but if you interfere in this, I swear to Merl -” Hermione stopped abruptly, realising she had been about to threaten her best friend.  _For fuck’s sake!_  She took a deep calming breath.  
  
“Harry, I…”  
  
“Don’t say anything. I hope you know what you’re doing, Hermione, because I sure as hell don’t.”   
  
Harry shot her a troubled look as he turned around and left her office, angrier and much more apprehensive now than when he had entered it.

  
  


*****

  
  
  
**London, 29th June 2003**   
  


_Her body was on fire. Her thighs trembled as she felt the tip of his tongue entering her in a succession of small stabbing jabs. He sucked hard on her clit, and she felt fingertips caressing her, lightly stroking her folds, opening her up._  
  
“Stop,” she moaned, “please, stop. I need more than this. I want you inside me, hard and hot and deep. I need to know you desire me.”   
  
He groaned on her clit, and the vibrations sent shockwaves to her centre. He nuzzled her folds, then crawled up her body, cleaning his face of her juices with the back of his hand. Looking into his eyes, she urgently sought his lips, desperately needing him.   
  
“Make love to me.” Her voice urgent and breathless.   
  
He entered her then in one hard, unapologetic thrust.  
  
  
Hermione sat bolt upright in her bed, panting hard.

  
  


*****

  
  
  
**Monaco, 8th August 2003**   
  


The Red Cross Ball. Pfff… of course he would be there, the poser. Hermione had been in Monte Carlo for five days now, unsuccessfully looking for Malfoy. Her source assured her that he had purchased a ticket for the event and even showed her a receipt for one thousand Galleons with his signature on it, but there wasn’t a trace of him anywhere. Nobody had seen him and he was not a guest in any of the very expensive hotels that peppered the place, nor did he seem to frequent any of the casinos.”  
  
Hermione had had a hard time securing a ticket for the ball. She had hoped to locate and arrest him before the gala, but attending was now unavoidable. That’s how she found herself in the so-called  _Carré d'Or_ , looking to spend some more money after having just purchased the most expensive dress she would ever own. She shivered a little thinking of the price tag, and wondered idly whether the cost of shopping at Saint Laurent or Chanel could possibly be considered claimable work expenses. She suspected not. At least she had saved the price of the ticket, although several Confundus and some Obliviations had been necessary. After acquiring her shoes for the evening, she went back to her hotel to get ready.

  
  
  


*****

  
  


The Sporting Club Monte Carlo was lavishly decorated in shades of turquoise, white and silver. Endless boughs of fairy-lights and candles softly glimmered everywhere, casting an unearthly glow that was flattering even to the most unfortunate of miens. A classical string selection performed enchanting music as guests were welcomed to the fête. The myriad flashes of the paparazzi’s Muggle cameras added another dimension to the charged atmosphere, like the place was dotted with hundreds of twinkling stars.  
  
Hermione arrived late, though she had Abbott and Riddley already in place, posing as waiting staff. She had decided to forego the exquisite meal the guests had shared, since she was going without a partner. She had reasoned that sitting through dinner clearly alone and not mingling with the other guests would have drawn unnecessary attention to herself. She needed to be as inconspicuous as possible if she wanted a chance to finish this tonight.  
  
  
She helped herself to a glass of champagne from the large tray Riddley was carrying as he passed her by, and he acknowledged her with a slight nod. No, they hadn’t sighted the subject yet. Yes, Hannah had been in the dining room during dinner, and she reported earlier to him that he hadn’t attended. As Riddley excused himself, Hermione scanned her surroundings, searching for a tell-tale flash of platinum blond anywhere among the almost one thousand very rich and famous guests attending the event. It was an impossible task, and Hermione -not for the first time that evening- questioned her decision to attend the gala. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.  
  
 _I may as well go home._  Hermione thought drily as she grabbed a second glass of champagne from a passing tray.  _Even if he’s here, I’ll never find him._  
  
  
Then the roof of the Sporting Club began to open, revealing a sky that was shimmering in starlight. Looking up, Hermione couldn’t help thinking how the Milky Way seemed to have been suspended there just to embellish this ballroom. She was so distracted that when the announcement was made that the Monegasque Royal Family had arrived, it had caught her unawares. She turned around, curious about people she had known only in Muggle magazines, and there they were: Prince Rainier; his heir, Prince Albert; his daughter, Princess Caroline and her husband; his sister, Princess Antoinette.   
  
And supporting her arm was Draco Malfoy.

  
  


*****

  
  


Hermione was gobsmacked. _What in the name of all that’s magic is he doing with them?_  she thought. She longingly fingered the Disillusioned wand hidden within her gown as she took in his relaxed, carefree stance. Her fingers were itching to cast a Stunning Spell, but of course she couldn’t do that while he was part of the Royal entourage. Instead, she brought the modified Protean charm concealed within her bracelet close to her mouth, under the guise of fixing her hair. “Abbott, Riddley, he’s here.” she murmured.  
  
  
He was chatting animatedly with the elderly Princess like if he had done it a hundred times before. She wondered at this, and was startled when he threw his head back and let out a genuine burst of laughter. Hermione felt butterflies.   
  
  
Unexpectedly, he looked up and his eyes found hers. She froze, all the air leaving her lungs. He held her gaze, the amusement in his eyes slowly morphing into something else. Then he quirked an eyebrow and gave her a crooked smile. The butterflies exploded.

  
  


*****

  
  
  


Draco had been sure he would see Granger at the Ball. Their last encounter had been a bit too close for comfort, (he definitely would not recommend Apparating in the nude to anyone -he had very nearly Splinched a much valued part of his body) and he reflected for a moment that being so used to the chase was making him careless. But at the end of the day, Granger had been after him for close to three years and still hadn’t managed to catch him, had she?  
  
 _Then again,_  he thought caustically,  _I haven’t managed to shake her off, either._  
  
  
As he walked into the Club escorting his aunt Nette, all his senses were in high alert. He spotted her immediately. With practiced ease he kept up the pretend nonchalance, talking and laughing seemingly without a care. In reality, he could tell almost to the second the moment she had become aware of his presence.   
  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her bring her hand to her hair, her lips moving almost unperceptively, and realised she had some sort of communications device.  _Looks like I’ve just wasted a thousand Galleons,_ he wryly thought.  
  
He looked at her openly then, holding her gaze in an attempt to unnerve her. She stared right back at him.  _Right,_  he thought.  _Time to up the ante._  
  
  
Slowly and deliberately, he sauntered in her direction, eyes never leaving her. He cast three wandless Protego in quick succession, to deflect two Confundus and an Imperio. He laughed.   
  
“Granger, my, aren't we getting creative. Using Unforgivables now?”   
  
“You are an Unforgivable all to yourself, Malfoy.”  
  
His amused chuckle came out as a low rumble that tickled her skin. She shivered. He noticed.  
  
“Aroused?”  
  
“Disgusted!”  
  
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, if it helps!” He laughed openly now, a clean, crystalline sound that brought a rush of emotion to her chest. She shook it off. Now was not the time to get side-tracked."  
  
"Har!" she snorted. "You are unbelievable. Who do you think you are, Merlin's gift to witch-kind?"  
  
He leaned his head closer to her and whispered suggestively into her ear. "Ah, but I know how wet you were for me last time, Granger. Would you like me to scratch that itch?"  
  
"Don't be crass. And don't flatter yourself. I wouldn't touch you with a bargepole."  
  
He chuckled again. "Yeah, right."  
  
“Well, are you going to come quietly or not? In case you don’t know, I have agents waiting to arrest you. Give up, Malfoy.”  
  
“Oh, but it wouldn’t do to make a scene here, would it?” He smirked, aware of the sheer amount of Muggles surrounding them and the difficulty they posed for her.  
  
  
Hermione closed the space between them, pressing her body flush to his. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. She brought a hand to his neck and pulled his head to hers. Strangely, he didn’t resist.  
  
“Ah, but you see, Malfoy,” she murmured, little puffs of breath tickling the shell of his ear. Her lips caught his earlobe, nipping it lightly. He quivered, a shiver running down his spine. Then felt the sudden poke of her wand on his ribs. “I believe I’ve found a way.  _Imperio!_ ”

  
  


*****

  
  


He fought the pull of the curse. He really did, but she was taking him away, away from the safety of the people, the lights and the camera flashes. Somewhere inside his head, he panicked. In just a few more steps, she would be able to Apparate them both away, and it would be over.   
  
  
Fighting against the hold of the Imperius with all his might, he did the one thing she wasn’t expecting. He pulled her tightly into his arms and crashed his lips onto hers.  
  
  
  
Hermione fought back, desperately trying to disentangle herself from his arms. He was pulling on her bottom lip, then her top, trying to get her to open up. Then she felt his tongue running across the seam of her lips, warm and wet and insistent, determined to gain entrance. And she felt a rush of heat so intense that it shut down any thought process she might have been having. Her wand fell off her hands as she furiously entangled them in his hair and she kissed him back with all she had.  
  
  
For endless seconds they kissed with an unbelievable passion, lips devouring and tongues duelling and teeth clashing, nipping, biting. Suddenly he gave her such a harsh shove that she stumbled backwards and fell. They looked at each other then, frozen, hungrily, panting hard, breathless. And both of them shocked to the core.   
  
  
And then, in a flash, he turned and Disapparated.


	3. Chapter 3

**London, 11th August 2003**  
  
  


Hermione looked up as Harry entered her office. He was carrying a rolled up newspaper in his hand and looked slightly nauseous. He gave her a glare both angry and disgusted, and immediately started pacing back and forth, back and forth in front of her desk. Hermione felt her heart flop.  
  
“Don’t look at me like that, Harry.”  
  
“How should I look at you?”  
  
“Like you always have?”  
  
“I can’t. I don’t think I know you anymore.”  
  
“I’m still the same person, Harry.”  
  
“Are you really? The Hermione I know would’ve never appeared in a Muggle newspaper snogging the living daylights out of the Death Eater she’s  _supposed_  to be arresting!” He threw the paper on her desk.  
  
“It wasn’t like that.”  
  
“Oh? Care to explain what it was like? Wait, no, scrap that. On second thoughts, I really don’t want to know.”  
  
“Hot.”  
  
“I beg your pardon?”  
  
“It was hot, Harry!”  
  
“What the hell do you mean, it was hot? Are you mental?”  
  
“You asked what it was like and I’m telling you! It was hot! Burning scorching hot! It was also wrong, unethical and it was forced upon me!”   
  
“Good to know that. By the way you were clutching his hair, it almost seemed consensual!”  
  
“Very funny, Harry.”  
  
“Actually, I don’t find it amusing at all.”  
  
“Listen… I’m sorry that you had to see that. I’m sorry that he got away. I’m very sorry I messed up! I’m-”  
  
“But you are not sorry you kissed him.”  
  
“ _He_  kissed  _me_!”  
  
“Same difference.”  
  
“No, it’s not! You are not being reasonable. I had him. I was bringing him in. He did what he had to do in order to escape. It threw me off balance just long enough to allow him to. And that’s all there is to it!”  
  
“If you say so. I  _really_  don’t want to know. What did Shacklebolt say?”  
  
“He’s given me a written warning. Not so much for the kiss after I explained what happened. Mostly for using the Imperius curse.”  
  
Harry stopped his pacing, turning so sharply to look at her it must have given him whiplash. “You cast the Imperius on him?”   
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Oh, Merlin, this is so fucked-up on so many levels!”  
  
“I know.”  
  
The pacing resumed, Hermione’s eyes following him back and forth, back and forth in front of her desk.  
  
“Have you thought about what we spoke last time?”  
  
“Yes. You were right. Possibly. I told Shacklebolt to find somebody else.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“He said he’ll look into it. I’ll be replaced as soon as a suitable substitute can be found.”  
  
Harry looked immensely pleased. He walked around the desk, reaching out to pull her into his arms. “It’s the right thing to do. I’m so relieved, Hermione. Everything will be back to normal in no time, you’ll see.”  
  
  
She closed her eyes, breathing in Harry’s familiar, calming scent.

  
  
  
  


****

  
  
  
**London, 2nd September 2003**   
  
  


_Her body was on fire. Her thighs trembled as she felt his tongue tasting her juices, little cat licks that were driving her insane. He sucked hard on her clit, and she felt fingertips caressing her, lightly stroking her folds, opening her up.  
  
“Stop,” she moaned, “please, stop. This is a dream, isn’t it?”   
  
He groaned on her clit, and the vibrations sent shockwaves to her centre. He lovingly kissed her thigh, then crawled up her body, cleaning his face of her juices with the back of his hand. She looked into luminous grey eyes and sought his lips with a desperate need.   
  
“Make love to me.” A clear, delighted laughter warmed her heart. “I _ know _you.”  
  
He entered her in one hard, unapologetic thrust, then he stilled with a groan._  
  
  
  
Hermione sat up wide awake, foreboding chasing drowsiness away.

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
**Pennsylvania, 25th September 2003**   
  
  


The tiny town of Devon was nothing like she would have imagined. It was a lattice of narrow, gently sloping streets flanked by thatched roofed shops and antique cottages. As you walked away from the centre, they led to wide residential avenues blanketed with old stately mansions, complete with rolling lawns and shady, sleepy woods. To Hermione, the place seemed frozen in time, the sights and smells reminiscent of times gone by. She took a deep breath, for once feeling exhilarated to be out of London and the oppressive mood at the Ministry.

  
  
  


*****

  
  


The International Dressage at Devon Horse Show was in full swing. Wherever you looked there were horses and riders and horse drawn carts. People chatting and laughing while enjoying cocktails or aperitifs. Camera flashes, balloons and festooned piquet fences. And hats, hats everywhere.   
  
  
Her department had received an anonymous tip listing Malfoy as a competitor in at least one of the categories. Hermione had gone straight to Shacklebolt to query why she had requested her replacement over a month ago and still hadn’t heard a word from the powers that be only to be told in no uncertain terms to take the assignment and run with it, as no replacement could be supplied at this time.   
  
  
She was tense. Riddley and Abbott had her back again, despite the fiasco in Monaco. Currently, they were both inspecting the grounds, although Hermione had ordered that any attempts to capture him were to take place after the actual competition. If he were to disappear before competing, it would surely create a stir and spark an investigation by the Muggle authorities. Hermione had had enough controversy to last her a lifetime. Today everything would be done by the book.

  
  
  


*****

  
  
  


The tests went on and on. As someone who had no real interest in all things horsey, Hermione had no idea a competition of this magnitude could have so many different categories, or even the sheer number of participants in each. She had been keeping an eye out for Malfoy, since his name was listed for the test for three year old horses that was starting in about twenty minutes, but if he was competing he certainly wasn’t hanging about. She just couldn’t spot him anywhere. Again.  _Merlin, must I spend my life looking for that man? Maybe I’ll be lucky and he won’t show up_ , she thought. All she could do was wait and boy, did Hermione hate waiting.  _It’s too hot for September, anyway._  Definitely not in a good mood.   
  
  
She found herself drifting down one of the secluded tree-shaded lanes surrounding the rings, and had to admit this part of the Cub wasn't that bad. Most people were watching the tests, so there was hardly anyone here. She strayed into a small grove of ash trees and honeysuckles, where the air was pleasant, sweet and cool. Leaning against a tree, she closed her eyes for a minute.  
  
“Granger.”  
  
Hermione spun around to find Malfoy standing next to her in full riding attire. He had his riding gloves and his wand held loosely by his side, and he was tapping rhythmically on his thigh. Slowly, she lowered her wand. She let her eyes take in his whole appearance; high black boots, white breeches, black shadbelly coat, white stock tie. Tousled hair falling over serious, intense grey eyes.  _He looks like sin wrapped in chocolate_ , she found herself thinking. She let out an amused chuckle.  
  
  
“I’m glad you find me entertaining.”  
  
“Sorry, Malfoy, I was thinking about something.”  
  
“You don’t say. I can guess what you were thinking about, the way you-”  
  
“Oh, for Godric’s sake, don't start again with the innuendo, it's getting old! And what the hell are you doing here, anyway?”  
  
“I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to talk to you. This was it.”  
  
“You knew I was coming.”  
  
“Of course I knew. I notified your office!”  
  
“Why?” she asked curiously.  
  
He hesitated then, averting his eyes. “I want to know what kind of spell you cast in Monte Carlo.”  
  
Hermione gave him a confused look. “You know very well it was the Imperius, Malfoy.”  
  
“Then you cast it wrong. I want you to lift it.”  
  
“What are you on about? The curse was lifted the moment you… kissed me.” She looked at him sharply, realisation dawning. “You feel it too, don’t you? That’s why you’re here!”  
  
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”  
  
“Come on, you know what I’m talking about. That surprisingly, it turns out there is chemistry between us. Go figure.”  
  
“Chemistry?”  
  
“Alchemy.”   
  
…  
  
“What does that even mean?”  
  
“You know, that our… elements are so compatible that if we combined them under the correct conditions and transmuted them, we would achieve... perfection.” She cleared her throat, colouring brightly.  
  
“I don’t… I see. So you think there is Alchemy between us?”  
  
She laughed bitterly, in spite of herself. “I know there is. I also know it doesn’t change anything. My body may want yours, but I don’t like you, Malfoy. You are still a wanker of monumental proportions. You think your name and your money and your pretty face place you above the Law, but you know what? Nobody is above the Law. You killed and you maimed and I don’t care I you feel you had no choice, I will bring you to justice if is the last thing I do. I don’t have a choice either!”  
  
“Oh, come off your high horse. You enjoy gallivanting all over the world after me. Is it fun, Granger? Does it get you off? Why can’t you just leave me be? You don’t know me at all, yet you preach and you criticise and you see the world in black and white! Well guess what: I can guarantee you will never get me, no matter how hard you try. Don’t doubt for a second that I will do what I must to get away. Consider yourself warned, Granger.”  
  
For several long minutes they stood there staring at each other, breathing hard. Neither of them was leaving first, and the situation was turning from charged to awkward fast.  
  
“Why aren’t you trying to arrest me?”  
  
“I will, after you finish the competition. No need to cause an upheaval.”  
  
…  
  
“So… this is a truce.”  
  
“Of sorts, I guess. A temporary ceasefire.”  
  
...  
  
"So, you think I have a pretty face, do you?"  
  
"Sweet Morgana give me patience! Is that the only thing that registered in that small mind of yours?"  
  
...  
  
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  
  
“I’ll be mounting my colt, Magick.”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
"He is pure Carthusian. Damn good horse."  
  
“Oh. Good.”  
  
…  
  
“Will you watch?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
...  
  
“Do you mind if I check something?”  
  
“It depends what it is, Malfoy.”  
  
He was slowly leaning towards her.  _He’s going to kiss me. Ohmigod! He’s going to kiss me in cold blood!_  Her heart was racing, but she tried not to react in any way as he got close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. Then he hesitated and stopped.  
  
“I’ve got to go. I’m up in ten minutes.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Granger?”  
  
“Mmm?”  
  
“This Alchemy, does it ever run out?”  
  
“If it ran its course, I guess… I wouldn’t know.”  
  
His mouth was a hair’s breadth from hers. She closed the gap.  
  
It was chaste, sweet, no more than a caress of lip on lip, arms hanging loosely by their sides. His lips were dry and catching on hers, so she wet them with the tip of her tongue. He whimpered, seizing her tongue and suckling it into his mouth, and Hermione moaned. Abruptly, he ended it and took a step back, as if startled by the sound.   
  
“Stop, I can’t… I’ve got to ride.”  
  
“Yes, I know.”  
  
“No, I mean, I have to be able to ride.”  
  
“What do you… oh.  _Oh!_ ”  
  
“Yeah, well, there you are. Wish me luck, Granger.”  
  
He walked away before she could answer. Just like that, the truce was over.

  
  
  
  


*****  
*****

  
  
  


“Riddley, crouch down. Where is Hannah?”  
  
“She’s in position by the stables. Hermione, what are we waiting for? You said we’d get him after he performed. Well, he performed. Shouldn’t we be making a move?”  
  
“Scott, listen to me and listen carefully. I don’t want anything to go wrong this time. He’s surrounded by Muggles and has his stable hand with him. We wait till he puts away his horse, you hear? Then we ambush him on his way to the waiting area.”  
  
“But what if he escapes?”  
  
“It’s a risk we’ll have to take. But I don’t think he will. They haven’t given out the score cards yet, and you know how he likes to brag!”

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
“I see him. Approaching from the left.”  
  
“Good. Go around behind him to cut him off. I’ll approach him from his right. Wait until the girl takes the horse away.”  
  
“Will do.”  
  
“And Riddley? Be patient.”  
  
Hermione had taken only a few steps when a movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.  
  
She turned sharply and saw Riddley standing where she had left him, wand pointed, swishing, performing a sequence she knew very well. She ran to him, screaming.  
  
“SCOTT, NO!”  
  
She threw herself at him as he finished the incantation.  
  
“CONFRINGO!”

 

  
  
  


*****

  
  
  


Draco was not in a good mood. Alchemy indeed! The way his mind –and his body, to be honest - had been preoccupied with her lately, he still wasn’t a hundred per cent convinced Granger hadn’t used some sort of dark spell to unsettle him. He just didn’t trust her supposed Gryffindor goodness any longer. After all, she’d had the audacity to cast an Unforgivable on him. And what a shock that had been. He had to hand it to her: she had surprised him, caught him unawares and almost captured him. He couldn’t begrudge her a little admiration. But Alchemy? That was pushing it.   
  
He started back towards the stables, half lost in his ramblings and listening with half an ear as Magick’s handler nattered away. The horse had performed beautifully, and if he may say so he hadn’t done so bad himself. In any other circumstances he would be having a great time. But he knew an ambush was coming any minute now, and he was getting antsy.   
  
He heard a commotion to his right. Somebody was shouting. As he turned, he saw Granger running, hurling herself on a man who was clearly in the middle of casting a spell.   
  
CONFRINGO!  
  
He spun back just as it hit the tree behind them. His horse spooked, shied to the side and reared, knocking his handler over.   
  
“Whoa, whoa, Magick!” He managed to grab the horse’s head and then rubbed his forehead over and over, whispering softly to him until he was sure it was safe. While giving him a treat, he looked to his stable hand, who was clutching her arm with a pained expression on her face. “Are you hurt, Lia?” His heart was still hammering in his chest.  
  
“I’m alright. I’m alright, just a bruise.”  
  
He turned then, feeling rage rise through him like Fiendfyre.  _Fucking asshole! Bloody fucking dickhead! What's he thinking!_  
  
He stormed towards the place where the dimwit was standing, the swallowtails of his coat flapping behind him. Granger was giving the stupid half-wit a dressing down, by the looks of it. He recognised him immediately.  
  
“RIDDLEY, YOU FUCKING WANKER!” He shoved Granger to the side and punched the moron right on his face. “Were you trying to kill my horse? He’s worth more than you earn in a year, you bloody asshole!”   
  
“Fuck you, you DISGUSTING DEATH EATER SCUM! I WAS TRYING TO KILL _YOU_ !”  
  
  
Punches were flying left, right and centre. They were both rolling on the ground, and it was starting to look more and more like a cat-fight. People were fast gathering around them. “SOMEBODY BRING A HOSE!” Hermione shouted, totally incapable of separating them without using her wand. She was tempted,  _oh, so tempted!_  but it wasn’t worth the shit she would be getting at the Ministry.  
  
  
  
“All right, let us through! Break it off, gentlemen!” Three judges were approaching fast, easily parting the crowds. They physically grabbed the fighting men, pulling them off each other.  
  
“Let go of me, you pompous ponce!” Malfoy shouted, struggling against the judge. “He almost killed my horse!”  
  
“Oh, boohoo, Malfoy! You fucking know –“  
  
“Gentlemen! Enough! Mister Malfoy, you will act in a way befitting a participant in this competition. Public house brawls will not be tolerated. Do I make myself clear?”  
  
“But sir! He threw a… a…-“  
  
“Firecracker.” Granger muttered.  
  
“That  _dickhead_  threw a firecracker at my horse!”  
  
“Mr Malfoy! You are about one swearword away from being disqualified! Please refrain from getting into any more trouble!”  
  
“Pffff! He’s good at that, the snobby shit!”  
  
“And you sir! I don’t know who you are, but we don’t tolerate troublemakers here. Please kindly leave the grounds.”  
  
“But Judge, sir, with all due respect, the wanker bit me!”  
  
“After he almost killed my horse! And my stable hand!”  
  
“Yes, Mr Malfoy, we are aware of the circumstances. However – and this is only friendly advise - we would recommend that you use a more civilised method of dealing with nuisances.”  
  
“Nuisance? You are calling me a nuisance?! HE IS THE FUCKING DEATH-“  
  
“RIDDLEY!” Hermione cut him short. The stupid moron was about to blab in front of a bunch of Muggles! How on earth did she get saddled with him, anyway? “Riddley, that’s enough.” She turned to the judges. “I apologise on behalf of my friend. He’s had a bit too much to drink and it clearly went to his head. We’ll be leaving now. If you’ll excuse us.”  
  
She grabbed Riddley’s arm and proceeded to pull him along towards the entrance. She could see Hannah looking at her from the sidelines and gestured for her to follow.   
  
“Granger!”  
  
She turned to face him.  
  
“Just wanted to say what a pleasure it's been meeting you here. So sorry you failed  _again_. Told you you would, didn’t I?"   
  
"Run along then, Granger.  _Chop chop_ , off you go!” And with a little snicker and a mocking wave of his fingers, he sauntered behind the judges towards the clubhouse.  
  
  
  
 _Ohhh, bloody hell, shit, fuck, bugger, pooh! I hate his guts!!!_


	4. Chapter 4

**London, 30th September 2003**  
  
  


Harry was surprised when Hermione walked into his office. He had been meaning to make time to see her for the last couple of days, but dealing with the aftermath of what happened in Pennsylvania was keeping him fully occupied. Talk about a big mess. Trying to ignore his increasing headache, he smiled and came around the desk to give her a hug.  
  
  
“Hermione, I’m so happy to see you! How are you holding up? I’ve been meaning to call on you, but…”  
  
“Yes, I know. You’ve been busy. They have kept me occupied too, debriefing after questioning after interrogation. I don’t know what they expect me to say.”  
  
“It’s nothing personal, Hermione. They need to get to the bottom of this, after Riddley’s claim. If there is anyone working against –“  
  
“What do you mean his claim? Whatever he is claiming, it’s not true, Harry. I was there. I saw.”  
  
“He says he was under the Imperius.”  
  
“Oh, how convenient! I don’t think so, Harry.”  
  
“Well, I personally don’t know what to think. I’ve known Riddley for several years now, and he’s one of the most level-headed, blindly-toe-the-line operatives we have. No imagination at all. This goes against character.”  
  
“Hmm. Did he happen to see who cursed him?”  
  
“He doesn’t know. He says it happened when he and Abbot were searching the grounds earlier that day.”  
  
“Well, if it’s true -and I’m not saying it is- then somebody is trying to help us. If Malfoy had been hit with that Confringo, chances are he would be dead by now. I had to jump on him to deflect the spell, Harry! Can you imagine the repercussions if he had been killed in plain view in the middle of a Muggle competition? Doesn’t bear thinking about.”  
  
“Ah, but you see? That’s the thing. He insists that he was going to deliberately miss even if you hadn’t pushed him. That he was compelled to warn Malfoy off and give him a chance to escape.”  
  
Hermione looked doubtful. “I don’t know, Harry. It looked to me like his aim was true. He had his wand trained directly on his chest.” She shuddered a little.  
  
“Are you cold?   
  
“No, just a bit tired. Anyway, I’d like to have a word with him, if possible. Is he here?”  
  
“No, he’s at Mungo’s. He’s demanding an anti-rabies potion, for some reason.” Hermione laughed. “What's so funny?”  
  
“I bet it's because Malfoy bit him!” she giggled.  
  
Harry chuckled. “Can’t blame him, then. I’d be using an anti-rabies too if a ferret had bitten me!” Hermione swatted his arm. “Ouch!."  
  
"Try to be a bit more original, dear."  
  
“I know, I know, sorry!" He laughed, then turned serious. "I’ve missed you, you know. I’m so happy you’re back to normal, Hermione. Even if you messed up again. Ouch! Quit hitting me, witch! I’ll get you for this!”  
  
Hermione laughed merrily as she ran around his desk, trying to escape the tickling assault she knew was coming.

  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
**London, 4th October 2003**   
  
  


_Eight nights! Eight bloody nights in a row dreaming the same dream! I can cope with the occasional wet dream, but every day? It’s getting absolutely ridiculous! I need some peace!_  
  
Hermione irritably fluffed up her pillows, determined not to fall asleep. She snuggled up under her lovely warm duvet -a cup of coffee under a stasis charm sitting on her bedside table, just in case she felt her eyelids droop- and tried very hard not to think about the glorious body she had set eyes on so many months ago. She wished she hadn’t. The sight of his rapture as he came was indelibly branded in her brain. Just thinking about it did funny, gushy things to her insides.  _If I could just scrub my brain with a wire brush…_  
  
She snuggled down further as she deliberately didn’t think of his taut muscles, of the arch of his back or his perfect skin. She purposely didn’t think of the way his hips thrust and grinded, or how he threw his head back as he climaxed. And she most emphatically did not dwell on the incredibly erotic little sounds he made. No, no, she wouldn’t think of that. Ever.  
  
What was wrong with her? Sure, she hadn’t had sex in a long time, and Malfoy was unquestionably a very sensual wizard. But come on, she worked in a place where fit, handsome men were in abundance. Surely there must be somebody else out there that could take her fancy!  _Hey, that’s an idea_. She would relieve a bit of the tension now and that way she wouldn’t dream of the pale, insipid prat. Take Zabini, for example. Now, here was a fine specimen of a wizard if she ever saw one. And a polar opposite to  _him. And_  he had a reputation as a fantastic lover. There, he’ll do very nicely.  
  
  
Hermione let her hand wander as she tried to picture the handsome, dark skinned wizard doing unspeakable things to her body. She closed her eyes and tried to visualise him naked in front of her. His body would be glorious, all hard and chiselled planes and angles, his skin the lovely golden brown of aged teak. Yeah, that’s it! He was slowly kissing her neck, nibbling and caressing with his tongue as his hand fondled her erect nipple. He pinched and tugged on it, his mouth slowly making its way down to the other one. She was so wet, grinding against his hardness, her fingers tangling in his soft blond locks. Then she tugged on his hair, needing to claim his mouth and he looked up at her, his beautiful silvery eyes full of lust.  
  
  
She sat up with a start, then flopped back onto her pillows groaning in defeat. Reaching over, she grabbed her copy of  _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_  and, sniffling soundly, resigned herself to another long sleepless night.

  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  
**New Providence Island, 27th November 2003**   
  


Emanuele Boccioni was the second cousin once removed of Blaise Zabini’s mother’s current husband. He was also the Honorary Consul General in the Honorary Consulate of Italy in The Bahamas. He had a beautiful home in Lyford Cay, a prestigious residential area on the westernmost tip of New Providence. He also owned a big yacht, co-owned a golf club and kept the sort of lifestyle that would appeal to the so-called beautiful people. And he was a Muggle.  
  
  
It was from spending a couple of weeks in this island paradise that Zabini’s mother had returned a few days earlier. And that’s how the Ministry learned of the most current location of one Draco Malfoy, who, according to Zabini’s mother, had arrived at Boccioni’s house as a guest of one of his sons the day before she was due back in England. Not that Mrs Zabini would have blabbed about it to the Ministry, not at all. But she had let it slip while entertaining her son with a full, minutely detailed account of her exotic vacation. (With Muggles! Imagine how quaint!) Blaise, being an Auror and not a very good friend of his friends, felt that it was his duty to inform the Ministry.  
  
  
Kingsley decided to send out a team to catch him. But, as Harry pointed out, Malfoy would be expecting them, after running into Zabini’s mother there. The fact that their man in the Islands reported no signs of Malfoy even attempting to leave could only mean one thing. He was expecting them, ready to play and challenging them.   
  
Hermione agreed. She knew that Malfoy was getting caught up in the thrill of the chase and the underlying attraction between them.  _Much like I am, though there is no need for them to know_. The only chance they might have would be to lure him into a false sense of security, then somehow entice him away from his Muggle friends and overpower him. That could prove tricky. “But not impossible, Hermione!” They could make up a story about him having been called away unexpectedly. Or something. They would decide what to say based on the circumstances at the time. It was decided, then; She would be leaving for the Islands with the next available Portkey.  
  
  
Problem: New Providence, although enjoying an adequate airport, did not have Portkey travelling facilities. This was not an obstacle for affluent people like the Zabinis or the Malfoys, who could quite easily hire a private aircraft for the short flight from Miami. For Hermione and her team it meant braving the Muggle airport to catch a connecting flight. At least she would be provided with a one-use-only Portkey back to Miami, to be utilised as soon as Malfoy was apprehended. Uhm, yes, small consolation. Shoot. Weell, that’s how things are. Now, let’s see who is going to tell her.  
  
  
Hermione was tired. She really wasn’t sleeping properly this days, she couldn’t even remember when she had last have a full, undisturbed night sleep. It was affecting her concentration and, even more noticeable to everyone around her, her temper. So, the job of explaining to her the details of her itinerary fell on Harry. Being her best friend, he was expected to survive the ordeal relatively free of spell-damage and the most permanent effects of unsavoury curses. Thankfully, they were right and he did. Mostly.

  
  
  


****

  
  


Miami International Airport, the Muggle one, is a daunting prospect for inexperienced wizarding travellers. After arriving at the Miami International Portkey Centre and collecting their belongings –all the while assisted by lovely and obliging Portkey Hostwitches, they were dumped to fend for themselves right in the middle of what looked like a stampede of charging Hippogriffs during mating season. Behaved like it too. Hermione, Hannah and Dean had never been shouted at, pushed and shoved, glowered at or groped so callously by a horde of raving Muggles in all of their lives. They had less than two and a half hours to make it to the connecting flight, and while before their arrival they had complained about the long wait, right now they seriously doubted they would make it in time.  
  
  
“Right. Hold on to your stuff and run. And please, let’s try to stick together. If anyone gets separated, we’ll meet at the Nassau check-in desk. Is that understood?”  
  
“But Hermione!” Hannah was already hyperventilating. “How are we going to find the right desk in this monstrosity of a building? I can’t even see where we are going, among all this people! I’m short!!”  
  
“Abbott! Pull yourself together! You are a witch; use your wand if you must. Just make sure you do it discreetly!”  
  
Hermione waved her wand, now looking like a nice parasol thanks to a temporary glamour charm, courtesy of Hagrid: “Ostende Nassau desk.”

  
  
  


*****

  
  
  


The flight to Nassau wasn’t much better an experience. The aircraft was small, with sitting for about forty people, and it felt flimsy and unsafe. It didn’t help that they had to fly through a raging storm that shook and jolted the plane every which way. The lightning show was spectacular. And all three of them spent the seventy minutes flight clutching their armrests, with their eyes shut tight and trying to keep down whatever stomach contents they could salvage. Not an easy feat.

  
  
  


*****

  
  
  


It was a relief to arrive in Nassau at last. As soon as they stumbled out of the small drab building, Hermione spotted a tall tanned man with a big handwritten sign that read “M of M” in big neon green letters. “That’s our contact,” she muttered to her two companions.  
  
He was dressed in cream chinos and a dark blue polo shirt, had dirty blond hair neatly parted on the side and was wearing the biggest, naffest grin on his face. They walked towards him with tentative smiles.  
  
“Hello there! You must be the Ministry’s people. Hi, I’m your Ministry man in the Islands. Winston Warrington-Stuart, at your service. You can call me Winnie.”  
  
Dean snickered. Hannah elbowed him discreetly.  
  
“And you are…”  
  
“Hermione Granger, in charge of the operation. This are my colleagues, Hannah Abbott and Dean Thomas.”  
  
“Nice to meet everyone. Right, let’s go to my car. You can tell me about your journey on the way to my house, it’s getting late. We’ll all sleep there tonight.”  
  
“Couldn’t you Side-Along-Apparate us? We are all terribly tired and need a shower and a cup of tea.” Hannah asked. ”If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”  
  
“Well, I’d love to, my dear, but I’m afraid I can’t. I’m a Squib. Same as my two sisters, actually. I can’t say it wasn’t a big disappointment to my father, but there you are. You never can tell with these things. But hey, I can still be useful to the Ministry! And having one foot on each side is not just convenient, it’s fun!” He gave them a big disarming smile that they couldn’t help but returning.

  
  
  


*****

  
  
  


They got to the house in less than ten minutes. It was lovely white colonial style building with a magnificent entrance, and as far as they could tell, surrounded by landscaped gardens. Winnie didn’t waste time to show them to their bedrooms, saying that he would meet them later in the patio for some refreshments.   
  
  
  
Hermione was the first one to come out, since her bedroom had direct access to the patio. He found Winnie reclining on a lounger, enjoying a glass of wine.  
  
“Come and sit here, Hermione, there’s plenty of room!” He patted the cushion next to him. Hermione declined politely, choosing instead to sit on the big corner sofa directly to the side. There was wine, fresh juice and lots of finger foods arranged over several glass coffee tables.  
  
“If you don’t mind, I’ll sit closer to the food, Winnie. We haven’t had anything to eat since leaving London, and I’m starved.”  
  
“Certainly, certainly! Help yourself!”  
  
Before she even had time to sit, Dean and Hannah had joined them. “Right, since you are all here, let me tell you what’s going on. Paolo Boccioni –you’ll all like him, let me tell you- arrived ten days ago with a friend of his. Drake, he calls himself. And a very nice fellow he is. Except that apparently he is wanted by the Ministry for some crime that they haven’t specified. Well, not to me.” He pulled a funny face. “Aaanyway, they haven’t been doing much. A few visits to the club, a couple of afternoons yachting and swimming, a bit of shopping and a lot of lounging about by the pool.  
  
So, here is the plan. Tomorrow, Big Chap and Pixy Face here –they both glowered at him- will report to the Club, where they will be sort of working during your stay.”  
  
“Hey! What do you mean, sort of working?” Dean asked, horrified. Hannah looked resigned. She seemed to always end up waitressing. She was getting used to it.   
  
“Well, you need to be able to access the club, since that’s the only place to socialise and everybody end up going there. And it's difficult to get in. This way you’ll already be there. But don't worry, in reality you’ll have pretty much free rein to come and go.”  
  
“Hmm. I don’t know.”  
  
“Is all sorted, don’t you worry. Hermione here will pose as my girlfriend. I already got us an invitation for lunch with Paolo tomorrow!” He looked extremely pleased with himself. Hermione, not so much.  
  
“Why your girlfriend? Couldn’t you have said I was, oh I don’t know, a friend of your sister’s?”  
  
“I think girlfriend will be more believable.” Hermione looked unconvinced, but let it slip. “Once I introduce you, it will be up to you to devise a plan. I’ll help, of course.”  
  
“Of course.” Hermione replied.

  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
**Lyford Cay, 28th November 2003**   
  
  


Palms House, as the Boccioni’s residence was known, was a stunning Mediterranean style villa situated on a small promontory at the head of the Canal, with a private beach accessible from the side. The gardens were an eclectic mix of tropical plants and palm trees, and Hermione could see an infinity pool with the luminous turquoise Caribbean as a backdrop.  _I could get used to this_ , she thought.  
  
  
They crossed an enchanting Andalusian patio to the side. Hermione saw Malfoy before he did her, and her heart decided to do a crazy little cartwheel number in her chest.  
  
She took a deep breath to steady herself.  
  
  
“Paolo, old chap! Come over here; let me introduce you to my girlfriend!”  
  
“Ha ha ha! Look who’s turned up at last, it’s Winnie Bear! About time you got here, you lazy lout! We almost drank up all the aperitifs, sorry if there isn’t much left. Well, hello! Who did you say she is? And don’t give me that dross about her being your girlfriend, you've never had one in your life!; and she’s way out of your league anyway."  
  
Hermione was bowled over by the unbound energy of this man. And what a sight for sore eyes he was. Tall and wiry, with the classical patrician beauty of a true Roman, black silky hair worn a tad too long, a lovely golden tan and the most startling eyes of indigo blue she had ever seen.  
  
“Does she speak?” Paolo laughed.  
  
Hermione coloured a bright shade of crimson when she realised she had been gaping at him, mouth slightly open. She put on her best smile and extended her hand.  
  
“Hi, I’m Hermione…”  
  
Paolo ignored her hand and instead put his hands on her shoulders, planting a kiss on each of her cheeks. Hermione blushed and laughed prettily. “I can see you are one of those continental charmers! It’s lovely to meet you, Paolo.”  
  
“The pleasure is all mine, believe me. Drake, come and meet Winnie’s new girl.”  
  
He was wearing Bermuda shorts, an old T-shirt and flip-flops, and it was so unlike the Malfoy she knew that she forgot for a second why she was there. He stopped next to Paolo, his eyes unreadable.  
  
“Granger.”  
  
“You’ve burnt your nose.” Without a thought, she reached out and ghosted a finger down the reddened skin. Then she realised what she was doing and quickly tried to withhold her hand.  
  
Malfoy caght her fingers and kissed her knuckles, a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Nice to see you too. It’s been too long.”  
  
She felt Winnie tighten his hold around her waist. Paolo looked at them curiously.  
  
“You two know each other, I see.”  
  
“We went to school together, actually. Fancy meeting you here, Malfoy.”  
  
“Yes, it’s a small world, isn’t it?”  
  
“Pooh Bear, don’t squeeze me so hard, please. I can’t breathe.”  
  
Malfoy snickered.  
  
“Don’t call me Pooh Bear, Honey Bun!”  
  
“Winston,” Hermione was getting annoyed. “I think you can quit-“  
  
“Come on!” Paolo laughed. “Race to the pool! Last one to jump in pays for dinner!” And with that he sprinted, Winnie following close behind.  
  
  
  
  
“So, Granger. Happy to see me?”  
  
“You should know! You are the one who's been waiting for me to come!”  
  
“Well, yes, I can’t say that’s not true. I thought it might be fun to foil again your attempts at catching me. I do enjoy our little game.”  
  
“You shouldn’t be so cocksure, Malfoy. One of these days you’ll slip and then I’ll have you. We’ll see who has the last laugh.”   
  
“There you go again, talking about having me and then mentioning my-“  
  
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence! Please try to behave. Paolo seems really friendly. I’d hate to ruin his fun.”  
  
"Spoilsport."

  
  


...

  
  


"You know why I'm here, don't you? This isn't socialising, Malfoy, sooner or later I'll try to get you and you'll have to fight me. Or come with me."  
  
"Let's not think about that now. Right here you are Winston's girl and I'm Drake. Even if it's only for a short while. "  
  
...  
  
"Come on, Granger, live a little." He sprinted forwards, laughing, carefree. "Race you to the pool. Last one to jump in is a Gryffindor!”

 


	5. Chapter 5

  
**Lyford Cay, 23rd November 2003**   
  
  


“Dean. Dean, can you hear me? Does this bloody thing still work?”  _Maybe I shouldn’t have jumped in the pool with it_. “Dean! Anybody! Dean!!”  
  
…  
  
“Hermione, this is Hannah. Please stop shouting into the Communicator. Dean is serving Afternoon Tea in the Grand Salon and I can see people staring at him funny! You are going to get him in trouble.”  
  
“Hannah! Thank goodness, I thought I had drowned the bloody thing. Ok, just wanted to tell you both, meeting in my room at double-oh-thirty.”   
  
“What? What on earth do you mean?”  
  
“Half past twelve, you dimwit!”  
  
“So why didn’t you say so? Honestly, Hermione, you sound ridiculous!”  
  
“Just… be there, both of you.”  
  
“Oh, ok.”  
  
…  
  
  
“Did you expect me to say 'over and out'?” (giggles)  
  
“Ohh, eff off! Ov…erm, see you then.”

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  


Half past twelve came and went and still no Dean or Hannah. She was totally worn out. After fooling around in the pool for hours, they had all gone to Compass Point for lunch. It was all very picturesque and Hermione thought she would love to stay in one of the little huts on the water if she ever came back for a real holiday. They had a delicious meal.  
  
  
Paolo insisted she had to see the whole island, and the whole island she saw. In exhaustive detail. Followed by hours of walking non-stop before they ended up having drinks at the Nassau Harbour Yacht Club, as Paolo finally believed her when she swore that she couldn’t feel her legs anymore and that her feet ached like bitches.   
  
  
Then she wanted to go home, but ended up back to Palms House for dinner instead. It had been go, go, go for the whole day and Hermione wondered how she was ever supposed to do her job if this was to be the norm.   
  
  
At ten past one in the morning, Hannah and Dean finally Apparated into her room and proceeded to flop on her bed. She glared at them.  
  
  
“About time you got here! Do you know what time it is? I had a very long day and I’m supposed to go to the Boccioni’s place for breakfast!”   
  
Dean sat right up, scowling. “You had a long day? Try working just half of my day at that hellish club, Hermione! I thought that bastard Winston said it was pretend work! Pretend, my arse! We’ve just finished cleaning. Without a wand!!”  
  
Hermione had the courtesy to look guilty. “Sorry, guys, I know you got the rough end of the stick, I’ll be quick. The thing is, after spending a whole day with Malfoy -and if today is any indication of how things are going to be- I’m at a loss as to how we can do this. We might as well pack up and go home. He’s not very likely to lose sight of his friends when he knows that’s what we’re waiting for. The only advantage we have is that he doesn’t know you are here, but a fat lot of good that’s going to do if I cannot draw him away from all the Muggles!”   
  
…  
  
“Well? Any thoughts?”  
  
…  
  
“Are you thick?”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“I’m asking if you really are that dense or it’s just how you got up today.”  
  
“Hannah, what’s your problem? I’m really not in the mood.”  
  
“Oh, for Circe’s sake, Hermione. Just seduce the guy! Merlin, you are dim! I thought that was your plan! What other way is there to separate him from the group?”  
  
”Don’t be ridiculous. Malfoy would see right through me, he’s not stupid, you know. If all of a sudden I turn sugary sweet he’ll know exactly what I’m trying to do and why."  
  
“Then don’t make it obvious! You just need to get him worked up enough that he’d be willing to risk walking into a trap!”  
  
Hermione laughed hard under Hannah’s glowering glare. “Hannah, look at me. Do I look to you like I could pull off something like that? Not going to happen.”  
  
“Well, make it happen! It shouldn’t be that hard, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Just act… tantalising. I’m going to bed. Dean. Dean!! Oh, this is just great. Now I have to carry him back!” She got up angrily, grabbed hold of the sleeping guy and Disapparated back to her quarters.”

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  


_Her body was on fire. Her thighs trembled as she watched his blond head dip between them, lapping at her core. He sucked hard on her clit as his fingers entered her, then started pumping in earnest, making her desperate with lust.  
  
“Stop,” she whimpered, “please, stop. Don’t you see this is not enough anymore?”   
  
He moaned, and the vibrations sent shockwaves to her centre. He beckoned with his fingers inside of her, making her gasp, then pulled them out and crawled up her body, cleaning his face of her juices with the back of his hand. She looked into smiling grey eyes and her heart skipped a beat.  
  
“Make love to me.” A clear, delighted laughter melted her soul. “I want you now, Draco.”  
  
He entered her in one deep, forceful thrust. They groaned in unison._  
  
  
Hermione woke up covered in sweat, panting hard, unbearably aroused. With a `pained sob, she let her hand find her wetness and surrendered to the inevitable.

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  
  
**Lyford Cay, 24th November 2003**   
  
  
  


“Over here, guys! Breakfast’s waiting by the pool!”  
  
  
Winnie was skipping excitedly toward the voice, pulling her along and stumbling in his haste. Hermione laughed at his eagerness.  
  
  
“Hermione! Winnie Bear!” Winston blushed like a schoolboy and rushed to sit next to Paolo. “So happy you got here at last! Wait till you hear what I have planned, you are going to love it! In fact, hurry up, go back home and pack, we are leaving right now!”  
  
  
Hermione took a sit at the breakfast table, smiling widely. She sat next to a very quiet, very subdued Malfoy. He didn’t look up or greet them, either.   
  
  
“What’s wrong with him?” she asked Paolo with a toss of her head in Malfoy’s direction.  
  
“Dunno. Didn’t sleep very well, I reckon. Not that he’s usually a morning person, but his temper today has been particularly foul. I’m in two minds about including him in my plans! What do you think, Herms?”  
  
“I’m right here, you know? I can hear you all right.” Malfoy grumbled. “I just don’t see why you feel the need to go traipsing all over the Caribbean when we are just fine where we are!”  
  
“Traipsing? We are going somewhere? Great, where, when are we leaving?” Malfoy scowled and sank deeper into his seat.  
  
“I thought we could take a little trip to the Exumas, just a couple of nights, so that Hermione can see a bit of the islands. There are some stunning places around, well worth the trip, and we could spearfish some lobster too! So, tell me what you think, Herms.”  
  
“It sounds great!” She grimaced at her new nickname. Paolo seemed to have pet names for everyone. “How are we getting there?”  
  
“I’m borrowing my father’s yacht, it’s already waiting. Have your breakfast, go and pack a couple of swimming costumes and we can be on our way in two hours tops.”  
  
Hermione bit on a piece of toast, considering the implications. She had to warn her team, and somehow devise a plan. If they were going to have a chance at getting him, this would be it.  
  
  
“So, what’s the agenda? Will we make it there by tonight? And where are we mooring? Will there be other boats around? What are we going to see? And which-“ A bark of laughter from Paolo stopped her barrage of questions.  
  
“Good Lord, Hermione, take a breath! We won’t get there today; I thought we could anchor in Rose Island for the night and have some fun. Tomorrow we’ll definitely sail to Staniel Cay, it’s the most beautiful place in the world, the caves and grottos are breath-taking. You’ll see, you will fall in love so deeply, you’ll never want to leave!”  
  
Hermione blushed for no reason and gave Malfoy a sideways glance. She rushed to finish her breakfast, a plan taking form in her mind.

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  


“Hannah, this is an emergency. Meeting at Winnie’s right away. I don’t care how you do it, be there in five. Bring Dean with you.”  
  
  
  
Hermione was adding the last things to the travelling bag Winnie had lent her when Hannah and Dean Apparated. She would of course take her trusted little beaded bag with her, but she needed something for show. Dean raised his eyebrow when he saw her packing.  
  
“So, you are really giving up? Are we leaving?”  
  
“No, we are all going on a little trip to the Out Islands. You too.” She handed them a piece of paper with sketchy instructions. “This was all I could gather. I need you to chart a boat straight away, call the Ministry for authorisation. I think it would be best if you went straight to Staniel Cay, get settled and wait for us. I’ll contact you with our exact location once we have anchored there. The island is tiny, so finding each other won’t be a problem. And please, until I arrive try to relax and have fun, you more than deserve it.”  
  
“Have you started working on him yet?” Hannah asked while pocketing the schedule.  
  
“Haven’t had a chance so far. But I’ll keep it in mind. I’ll do what I can.” Hermione coloured and berated herself for it. “Well, go back and hand in your resignation at the Club. We don’t have a moment to lose; Paolo’s yacht is leaving in half an hour!”

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  


The  _Albatross_  was a beautiful yacht, sleek and graceful, with a black and white hull and red and white sails that billowed in the breeze. She had been designed by one Andrea Vallicelli who –Paolo informed them proudly- was a very famous Italian yacht designer. Hermione hadn’t heard of him, but thought the ship was stunning anyway. The deck was mainly teak, clean lined and uncluttered, with plenty of room to lounge about, sunbathe or sit at the cockpit for drinks or a meal. Below deck, she had four large cabins, all with double beds and en-suit bathrooms, plus another two for the crew; two beautiful saloons, and what Paolo called the ‘party room’, clearly for entertaining. She was luxurious but not ostentatious, and Hermione was impressed. She tried very hard not to show it though, and to keep an even countenance under Malfoy’s scrutinising eye. She wouldn’t give him an opportunity to mock her if she could help it.  
  
  
  
  
They set sail at quarter past twelve, and Hermione went straight to her cabin to unpack and change into a bathing costume. On the spur of the moment, she decided to transfigure one of her swimsuits into a pretty bikini, and tried not to feel self-conscious about the amount of skin she was putting on display. She knew she had a good body and wasn’t ashamed of it,  _so there, let’s see if it makes any difference._  
  
  
She went up on deck and took a minute to observe the three guys before they saw her. Paolo was lying down of his front on a towel, while Winnie was rubbing sun cream all over his back. Malfoy was sitting slightly apart, hugging his knees and seemingly lost in thought. She looked at Winnie’s expression and understanding hit her with full force. He looked aroused, adoring and pained all at once. In this new light she looked down at Paolo, trying to discern if he knew and how he felt about it, and blushed when she noticed him grinding ever so slightly into the towel. Clearly, he felt the same.  _So, it's love in Paradise, then_. Hermione smiled and approached Malfoy.  
  
  
  
“You should really use some sun protection or you’ll burn and peel, you know.” She set her things next to him and sat down gingerly. “You can use mine, if you don’t have any.”  
  
“That would be nice, I didn’t bring…” He lifted his eyes and looked up at her. “Granger, what are you wearing?”  
  
“A swimsuit?” she laughed.  
  
“There’s not enough material to call that a suit!”  
  
“Don’t worry, Malfoy. I could stand here stark naked and those two wouldn’t even  _see_. Look at them.”  
  
“U-huh. You noticed, did you? Took you long enough. Now they just have to acknowledge it to each other. Anyway, that still leaves the Captain and crew.”  
  
“Hey, loosen up, you. I’m sure they’ve seen worse. Don’t you like it?”  
  
“What’s there not to like?” he went back to staring at the water, lost in his own thoughts again.  
  
  
  
She woke up to a big splash and then heard another. Sitting up, she realised the gentle pitching of the boat had lulled her to sleep. It was hot now, the sun beating down on the deck mercilessly. Paolo and Winnie were nowhere to be seen, and she assumed that the splashes she heard were probably the two of them diving for a swim. She looked at Malfoy and saw that he was also asleep lying on his front, and that his back was quickly taking on the exact same colour of a boiled lobster. She sighed. _He’ll be hurting tonight, the dummy._  Making sure no-one saw, she took out her wand and cast a Cooling charm on his skin, then a quick Healing spell. After that, she proceeded to douse him in sun lotion, trying to disturb him as little as possible.  
  
  
She did his back as gently as she could, then continued down his thighs and calves, secretly loving the softness of his skin. She was feeling a strange sort of tenderness right then that made her smile. There, she thought, all done.   
  
She looked up as she wiped the leftover cream off her hands on her own shoulders, and her heart did a back-flip when she saw him staring at her, lips parted and eyes full of an intense heat that seemed to burn her to cinders. She jumped up without a word, and walking quickly to the swimming platform, she dived into the cool blue water.

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  


The flats around Rose Island were teeming with lobsters and big conch too. By dinnertime, they sat to the most delicious conch chowder and barbequed lobster meal Hermione had ever tasted. After, they put on some music and simply lounged on the deck, looking at the stars.  
  
  
Winnie and Paolo had been talking quietly between them for a while. They both got up and left without a word. Hermione laughed.  
  
“Do you think they are going to make out?”  
  
“About bloody time they did, that and then some. I’ve been feeling like the third wheel for weeks now, Granger.”  
  
“What’s the deal, then? If they are both so attracted to each other, why don’t they just go ahead and own up?”  
  
“Couldn’t tell you. Family pressure, maybe. Paolo’s father has big expectations for him. And Winston… well, he is the only male child in his family. I’m sure his father expects him to produce an heir, even if he is a Squib. To carry on the family name, and all that.”  
  
“Same as you, then.”  
  
“For one thing, I’m not gay, Granger.”  
  
“No, I don’t suppose you are.”  
  
…  
  
  
“Hermione.”  
  
“Hmmm?”  
  
“Nothing. I just realised I had never actually uttered your name in my life. Not once.”  
  
“Oh. And how does it feel?”  
  
“Like it belongs to somebody else. It’s not you.”  
  
“You are weird, Malfoy.”  
  
…  
  
  
“Fancy going for a swim?”  
  
“It’s totally dark.”  
  
“So? The water is at its warmest right now. Don’t worry, there are no sharks around here. Your toe could be bitten off by a lobster, though.”  
  
“Very funny. Ok then, just a quick dip.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Hermione came up for air. The water really was pitch black and very warm. In the shadow of the boat she couldn’t see Malfoy anywhere. She swirled around quickly, looking for him.  
  
“Malfoy, where the hell are you.” No answer. “Malfoy!”  
  
She felt something tug on her leg and screamed. Then a blond head broke the surface of the water, laughing mockingly.  
  
“You big enormous prat! You bloody scared me!” She had thrown her arms around his neck in a panic and when he looked down at her, all his laughter was gone.  
  
  
They floated like that for a while, silently, their breathing quickening. Trembling, she brushed the hair off his eyes and let her fingers slide softly down his face then over his lips, probing lightly into his mouth. She withdrew sharply when she felt the tip of his tongue swirl around them, and brought her hand back to his nape, cradling his head. Closing his eyes slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers then kissed her softly, tentatively. Her heart somersaulted in her chest and she responded with a little sob. She gently took his bottom lip between her teeth, drawing the most delicious sound from his throat. She felt faint.  
  
His tongue was salty like the water, and deliciously sinful. She let him in as their kiss deepened and swelled with passion. He tightened his arms around her with a whimper, his embrace becoming more demanding. Then she felt him, hard and solid against her belly and her need escalated. Her legs hitched around his waist, her own hips canting, seeking; seeking, finding. And when her heat rubbed needily on his erection he threw his head back, instinctively thrusting into it and crying out urgently, startling her, making her come back to her senses.   
  
She fought hard against him, pushing wildly, panicking.  _This is not how it’s supposed to happen!_  She had to wait, had to get away now! Warring with herself, she disentangled from him and swam back to the yacht and to the safety of her own cabin.

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  
  
  
**Staniel Cay, 25th November 2003**   
  
  
  


She had been avoiding him all morning, making sure to be always in the company of the others. She eluded his unhappy glances and his attempts at engaging her in conversation. He looked tired and hurt, and Hermione had no doubt that he had slept as little as she had.  
  
  
Soon enough they started passing tiny jewel-like islands. The sea and sky merged in a million shades of blue. The water was so clear, its reefs and islands so pristine and vibrant. Hermione felt a profound wonder, almost mesmerising in its intensity. She felt like crying then and didn't know why.  
  
  
  
“Guys! Come here! Look, Staniel Cay, we’ve arrived!” Paolo was beaming widely, and Hermione tried to look excited, as she could see Malfoy wasn’t going to make the effort. Winston had his arm wrapped casually about Paolo’s shoulders, and looked at her defiantly. She gave him her brightest smile and saw him palpably relax.  
  
  
  
She went below to her cabin to finalise the plan with Thomas and Abbott.  
  
“Hi to you too, Dean, glad you enjoyed yourselves. We are heading to the Thunderbird Grotto and caves surrounding it. Please keep out of sight while trying to locate us. I’ll open communications when it’s safe to do so. Out for now.

  
  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  
She had to do this. It was her duty. Making sure Malfoy noticed, she slipped away from Winnie and Paolo and walked towards a little cave she could see to the side. She brushed her hair behind her ear, mumbling into her wrist. “Where are you?”  
  
“We have visual. I repeat, we have visual.”  
  
  
She smiled sadly and walked into the cave.

 

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  


“We need to talk, Granger.”  
  
“No, we don’t.” She turned around then, wand drawn. “We have nothing to say to each other. It was all part of the chase. I needed you to fall for it and you did.”  
  
He grimaced. “You can lie to yourself all you want, witch, but that doesn’t make it less real. I know what I saw and how you looked. I felt your reactions and believe me, there are things no-one can fake. It was genuine, Granger.”  
  
“I told you before. My body may want yours, but I don’t. You talk about reactions?” she chucked. “Deep down it’s just physiological, mere Alchemy and Illusion. It means nothing. You mean nothing, Malfoy!”  
  
  
Merlin, the hurt in his eyes. Breaking inside, she was calling in her team when the cave seemed to shake violently all around them. Then she heard the explosion and the world ceased to exist.

  
  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  
  


Dust. Chocking dust and grit and a dead weight squeezing the air out of her lungs. She reached up with her hand and touched hair not her own, wet and sticky with a warm, thick substance. Her heart jolted inside her chest as adrenaline kicked in, and she managed to get on her hands and knees, trying to get him off her back as gently as she possibly could. She cradled his head, swallowing the bile that rose to her mouth as the bone that should be firm seemed to give a little.  _It’s not. It’s not, I’m just imagining it!_  She lowered him slowly to the floor, supporting his head on her lap.  
  
  
“Malfoy. Malfoy! Open your eyes. Come on!”  
  
  
She brushed his hair off his face, her sight adjusting to the sudden dusky quality of the light. God, so much blood…  _Head wounds bleed profusely. It doesn’t mean anything_. She slapped his face a little, calling his name over and over. “Draco, please! Not like this…” she sniffled loudly, crouching over.  
  
  
  
“Hermione, are you ok? Please answer!” Hannah’s voice sounded frantic over the communicator. “Hermione, are you awake?”  
  
“Hannah!! I can’t wake him up!! He won’t open his eyes, Hannah, please, please!”  
  
“Hermione, thank Merlin you’re alive! Are you hurt? Can we Apparate in?”  
  
“Hannah, he won’t wake up, gods Hanna… somebody help me…” Her voice broke.   
  
“Can we Apparate in? Answer me, Hermione, it’s important! Can we?”  
  
“I don’t…” She felt the ghost of a touch on her cheek and looked down sharply.   
  
  
He was mumbling something. Hermione couldn’t hear over Hannah’s frantic questions, so she switched off the communicator. “What did you say? Are you alright? Malfoy!”  
  
“Mmmm asked if they were f’ me. Yr tears, Grngr.” He was mumbling weakly, but Merlin, he was alive. She started laughing, then sobbing uncontrollably. “I thought… meant nothin’…” he slurred.  
  
“Malfoy, your wand, where is it, I can’t see mine!”  
  
“Dunno… Don’t feel soo good... hurts like a bitch...”  
  
Hermione groped around blindly, feeling hysterical and trying to keep a clear head. Then her fingers touched it. “Thank god! Hold on, Draco.”  
  
  
She used every Healing Spell she had ever learned and some she didn’t remember learning. Then she closed her eyes, held her breath and waited.  
  
  
  
He was cupping her cheek a lot more firmly this time, and she covered his hand with hers. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”   
  
He got to his feet unsteadily and swayed. She held him up. “You need a proper Healer as soon-”  
  
  
Loud noises over at the entrance. Somebody was shouting. Hermione switched on her Communicator and Hannah’s voice resounded loudly in the cave.  
  
“Hold on, Hermione, we’re coming in now!”  
  
She looked at him, eyes wild with panic reflecting off panicked eyes. “Malfoy, go!” She shoved her own wand in his hand. “Go! Now,now now!!”  
  
  
She spun back, facing the entrance, and as she heard the  _pop_  of Dissapparition behind her, Dean and Hannah Apparated in front of her.

 


	6. Chapter 6

  
**London, 27th November 2003**   
  
  


“Again Hermione. Could you tell me what happened in the cave after the explosion?”  
  
“Kingsley, for Merlin’s sake. We’ve been over this several times already. What do you expect me to say? I’m tired. I’m sore all over, it’s nearly two in the morning and I want to go home!”  
  
“I’m sorry, Hermione, but this is necessary. I need to understand how a wanted criminal who was seriously injured and wandless, managed to overpower one of my best operatives and elude capture yet again. You can see my point, can’t you?”  
  
“I guess he wasn’t as badly hurt as I thought. He grabbed my wand when I was distracted trying to operate the communicator. We struggled, I was still dazed and lost grip on my wand. Then he Disapparated. What can I say. It was stressful; a bomb had just exploded for Circe’s sake! Shouldn’t you be looking into that instead?”  
  
“When you came out of the cave you were covered in his blood. It was in your hands, arms, face, hair and clothes. That suggests close contact for a prolonged period with a very serious wound. How do you explain that?”  
  
“But of course there was close contact, we were unconscious for nearly twenty minutes! And I told you, he either fell on me or threw himself on top of me, Kingsley. You can’t get much closer than that unless you’re fucking!”  
  
“Granger! I advise you to mind what comes out of your mouth. I’m your superior, you will speak to me with all the respect I’m due!”  
  
“My apologies, sir. Look, I cast a Healing spell to stem the blood. I’m not heartless; I couldn’t just let him bleed to death! I guess the wound was a lot more superficial than I thought. You know head wounds can be very dramatic. They bleed profusely, Kingsley. It doesn’t necessarily follow that they are life- threatening in every case!”  
  
“Several people heard you telling Hannah Abbott that you couldn’t wake him. How did he go from unconscious to overpowering you in less than half an hour?”  
  
“He must have been faking, mustn’t he? Can I go home now?”  
  
“Not yet, Hermione. Now, one more time. Can you show me exactly what you were doing when he took your wand?”  
  
“Aww, fuck me.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
**London, December 1st 2003**   
  
  


Hermione looked up as Harry entered her office. She had been both afraid and looking forwards to seeing him ever since getting back from the Islands, but he had been away on an assignment and nobody could tell her when he would be back. He looked worried, as was the norm nowadays. It saddened her that her relationship with him was suffering. Where it was once happy and carefree and as close as can be, now it was strained and tense, but then lying can do that to any relationship. Hermione was well aware that she was the one at fault here. But much as she regretted lying to Harry, she felt she had no other choice. He wouldn’t understand, hell, she couldn’t understand it herself. All she knew for sure is that she was in way over her head and there was nothing she could do except going with it and seeing it through, wherever it may take her.  
  
  
“Harry, you’re back!” She rushed to give him a hug. He held her tight for a minute.  
  
“Are you all right? I know what happened. Were you hurt? Gods, Hermione, this is getting out of hand. ”  
  
“I wasn’t hurt. A bit bruised and a nasty bump on the head, nothing more.”  
  
“Really? Well, you were very lucky. For what I heard, the explosion was quite something. It could have been very serious.”  
  
“It could have been, but Malfoy threw himself on me. He may have saved my life, Harry.”  
  
“Is that why you let him go?”  
  
“What are you talking about? I didn’t let him go. He got away fair and square.”  
  
Harry gave her an odd look. “That’s not what the rumours say. Are you still under investigation by Internal Affairs?”  
  
“No, I’ve been cleared. Sort of. They concluded that there is not enough proof of any wrongdoing on my part.”  
  
“You are lucky they haven’t considered Veritaserum necessary yet.”  
  
“Harry! Is that what you think? That I’m lying?”  
  
“What I think is irrelevant, Hermione. You forget that I know you very well. This is going to destroy you in the end. This weakness you have.”  
  
“Weakness? Look, you weren’t there. I was talking to Dean and Hannah, telling them to come in as the bomb went off. If it hadn’t, Malfoy would have been in custody by now! How is that a weakness?”  
  
  
“How did they know you would be there? Nobody knew, except for the six of you.”  
  
“You forget that Dean placed a Floo call to the Ministry, Harry. We needed to charter a ship. He must have logged in the schedule and location of the planned operation, its standard procedure. Any number of people could have overhead, or seen the memos that went around. The Magical Explosives Squad found a quantity of Disillusioned artefacts in some of the other caves around the main grotto. Whoever did it knew exactly what the plan was.”  
  
“I see. Well, that complicates things. Any clues? Who’s looking into it?”  
  
“Robbards from D.M.L.E. He is in charge of the investigation.”  
  
…  
  
“So, it’s someone from the Ministry.”  
  
“It certainly looks that way.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
**Croatia, 17th January 2004**   
  
  


Hermione walked down the lovely Riva Promenade, at this time of the evening buzzling with people and nightlife. She had spent most of her day exploring the Marjam, then had gone back to the tiny apartment she was renting in the old town to shower and change before going out for dinner. People in Split still dressed up in the evenings, a quirk that she found endearing, and she was savouring the solace and ease of being an anonymous face in the crowd.  
  
  
She had to call in a few favours, plead and cajole, remind everyone of the sheer amount of unused holiday time she had accumulated and, in the end, threaten to resign before they agreed to give her a measly week off work. Only Harry and the Portkey Office on Level Six knew where she was. She needed time to herself, to forget about work and the chase, her increasingly confusing feelings, her  _need_ , that unexpected hunger that consumed her every minute of every day. And to sleep. She needed to sleep like she needed air.   
  
  
The last few days had been wonderfully healing, and Hermione patted herself on the back for having chosen to come here.  
  
 _This is a beautiful city_ , she thought. She really wouldn’t mind moving to a place like this one day, if she ever decided to leave England. She breathed in the salty sea breeze and smiled, feeling relaxed for the first time in ages.  _Maybe I should consider buying a property here_. Even though it was the middle of January the weather was mild.  _Perfect_.  
  
  
  
She had dinner in one of the waterfront restaurants that peppered the promenade. She tried a delicious Crni rižot that reminded her of Italy, probably because, like the Italian risottos, it was deliciously creamy and rich, a flavour evocative of sunshine and summers and worry-free holidays. She laughed when she went to the ladies’ and saw that her lips and teeth were stained from the squid ink that gave the dish its name and colour.  _Thank Merlin for wands and Cleansing spells!_  
  
  
It was time to call it a day; she was tired after all the walking she had done and wanted to be rested in the morning to enjoy her final day here. Hermione decided to take a last stroll down the waterfront to work out her meal. And because it was so lovely, really.  
  
  
She stopped at the far end of the promenade, where half a dozen small yachts were moored, and her heart quivered a little, remembering another boat on another sea. There was no-one here, and she savoured the peace and quiet, after the noise and vibrancy of the evening. She stood behind a concrete bench, resting her hands on its back and, closing her eyes, breathed in the spicy saltiness of the Adriatic.  
  
  
“Don’t turn around.”  
  
  
Hermione almost jumped out of her skin and indeed tried to turn, only to find herself confined by a pair of arms, hands clutching the bench alongside hers, and a body pressing closely against her back. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to get her heart rate under control. She looked back at the water, letting the rolling of the waves calm her.  
  
…  
  
  
“How did you find me.” It sounded loud in all that stillness, her voice slightly hoarse. She cleared her throat.  
  
“I have my ways. It’s not important.” He was speaking so huskily, she wouldn’t have understood him had he not been talking into her ear. “Granger, why did you let me go?”  
  
“What do you want me to say, Malfoy? Isn’t it enough that I did?” She felt him tensing behind her and felt a pang of regret at her harshness.  
  
“I…” his voice broke. Hermione could feel his breath coming out in fast little puffs, moistening her ear. She shivered. “I just have to know… Granger, after last time… I don’t know if this is Alchemy or if you have me under a curse, I don’t know if I matter or if I don’t and I don’t understand why  _you_  should matter, but you do. I don’t know anything anymore and it’s driving me crazy. I can’t endure this any longer, this need… I feel it constantly, all day, every day.” She whimpered, shutting her eyes tight. “This is killing me. I haven’t been able to sleep properly since that night on the boat, hell, since way before that. I go to bed hard and wake up hard, and more often than not covered in my own fluids. I’m always aching, aching for something I can’t reach... I don’t understand it, Granger. I’m so damn tense all the time, so aroused and frustrated. I can’t think and I can’t function and all I want to do is to bury myself in you over and over, and come and come and come inside you a hundred times until these feelings go away, until I’m sated and calm and can think clearly again.”   
  
  
Hermione felt dizzy. Her heart was galloping and her legs wouldn’t hold her. She let herself fall back against him, head resting against his collar bone. She could feel his heart beating a mile a minute and the solid length of his erection against her back. He pressed into it slightly and she bit her lip to muffle a moan.   
  
  
“I know you’re on a holiday. We could call it a truce, nobody has to know. The chase can wait. I… please, I’m about to explode, and I can’t take it. I need… Aw fuck… just say yes, Granger, give in and mean it, for once. ” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, waiting. His arms encircled her waist and his hands trembled as he pressed her hips back into his while rocking shallowly against her back. She could feel his breath catching in every exhale, and it melted her inside in waves. The need to grind back was overwhelming. She fought a losing battle to steady herself.   
  
  
 _But isn’t this what I have felt all along, what I’ve tried so hard to deny… I need him. I have to have him, just this once._    
  
  
Turning within his arms, she reached up and brought his face down to hers, seeking his mouth with reckless determination. She kissed him clumsily, hungrily, frantically and he responded in kind, drinking of her mouth like he was dying of thirst. He was pressing tightly into her body from head to toe and she pushed him back a bit to make just enough room to run her hand down his chest, letting it come to rest against the front of his trousers. He pressed into it. She squeezed.  
  
  
“Nuh… no Grn… wait. Hold on tight, Granger.”

  
  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  
  


They Apparated unsteadily and stumbled, falling heavily against a wall and sliding down to the floor, all the while kissing, biting, eating each other like they would burn up and die if they stopped. Hermione didn’t know where he had taken her and, quite frankly, didn’t care. He was trying to hitch her legs higher up his waist while grinding, thrusting desperately against her crotch. She, to unbutton his trousers, but his belt was in the way.   
  
  
“Malf… make some room, I can’t undo this.”  
  
“Oh fuck, fuck hurry, I’m going to explode in my pants.”  
  
“Pull back a bit, I can’t- now! Get it in, get it in!”  
  
  
“Fuck’s sake you’re wearing knick-“  
  
“Course I’m wear… shove them to the side! Fuck, let me!”  
  
…  
  
  
“Wait, don’t touch it, you’re making me-“  
  
“I’m guiding you in, I have to touch… yes, there, there!”  
  
  
“Aah fuck, fuck so hot. Shit, you’re too tight, wait, you’ll make me come too soon.”  
  
“Nnng, I need you all the way inside me, god, deeper, Draco. Deeper, deeper, oh gods I need you-”  
  
  
“Ah, ah, ah, stop… stop!”  
  
“ALL THE WAY IN, MALFOY! …Yess! God yes.”  
  
  
…  
  
  
“Slow down, Granger, slow d… Merlin I’m going to explode, ah, this is going to burst out of me, it’s gonna burst out if you don’t ease off!”  
  
“Let it! I don’t care! Just don’t stop Draco, don’t… Ahh, do that again!”  
  
  
…  
  
  
“Oh god, oh god, oh god, yes, like that, like that!”  
  
…  
  
  
“Nngg wait, wait, I can’t… Give me a moment, for fucks sake!”  
  
  
…  
  
  
“Fuck, I said give me a mo-“  
  
“Ng ng ng I’m not moving”  
  
“You’re  _squeezing_  it, Granger!”  
  
“I’m about to come, you dolt! I can’t help it!”  
  
  
…  
  
  
“I can’t hold it, I’m gonna come, Oh fuck, fuck, fuck! Ah, Granger, I’m gonna come!”  
  
“Nuh, nuh, no! Don’t stop, don’t st, don’t st, Ooh I’m com… Draghnnn …”  
  
“Fffuuuckhhh… …, ngh…!  
  
…  
  
…  
  
  
“Malfh, whah…?”  
  
“I’d… I’v… ohgods.”  
  
...  
  
...  
  
  
“Merlin.”  
  
“Yeah.”

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  


Draco felt empty, sated and warm still buried inside her, if a little uncomfortable. His backside was getting numb, not to mention the odd angle at which his head was lodged against the wall. He sighed tiredly, trying to ease the kink in his neck and that seemed to spur Granger into action. She started to pull out.  
  
  
“Ow, ow, ow! Woman, be careful!”  
  
  
They had lied tangled on that corner for a long time, until their breathing slowed and their heartbeats relented and the chill of the evening seeped into their bones.   
  
  
She stood up shakily, got her wand, cast a Scourgify on both of them and then extended her hand to help him up. “Come on, Malfoy. Hop on the bed. We are too old to be cavorting on the floor.”  
  
  
He undressed clumsily and laid down, closing his eyes. He felt drained and satisfied and completely boneless.  
  
  
  
The bed dipped next to him as Granger sat down. He waited for her to stretch out next to him, but instead he could feel her staring at him, thinking intently. He searched her out with his hand, too tired to open his eyes.   
  
“Come here. Let’s sleep awhile, Granger.”  
  
“I will in a minute.”  
  
  
She moved between his legs with a caress, then the lightest of touches all over his body, feeling, exploring, teasing. Her lips and tongue followed the path of her fingers, roaming down his chest, over his stomach, dipping in his navel, kissing, licking, nipping, down his thighs, his calves, his feet and then up again, touching and tasting and worshipping him everywhere.  
  
“Granger…”  
  
“Shhh. What we just did was messy and rushed and we both needed it desperately. But this… I’ve imagined doing this so many times. Please let me.”   
  
  
Then she ran fingertips like silk caresses up and down his shaft, and he inhaled sharply as she robbed him of all thought. He threw an arm across his eyes and felt himself swell up, the pressure mounting again.   
  
  
Her mouth was everywhere, then she was kissing his thigh, making patterns with her tongue and nibbling, trailing hot open mouthed kisses, getting ever closer to his groin. He held his breath, then felt her tongue on the skin just behind his balls and jolted.   
  
“Shhh,” she said again, soothingly.   
  
  
She kissed and licked her way up to the head of his cock, making him buck up and moan. She smiled and swirled her tongue around the tip. He gasped sharply, clutching at the sheets, feeling her lips slide down his shaft, taking him fully into her mouth and then up again, sucking tightly on the upstroke.  
  
“Nng, Grangr… ah!” She was repeating the motion again and again, her hand now stroking and twisting in keeping with her mouth. She swallowed as she had him deep in her throat and he groaned loudly, his breathing laboured. Then he felt her gently kneading his balls as she kept swirling her tongue, and sucking and stroking. His hips started jolting off the bed, and he was crying out a litany of breathy little sounds, his toes curling.  
  
  
…  
  
  
Hermione felt the almost imperceptible swelling and hardening in her mouth. His balls drew up and tightened, and she knew he was very very close. She slid her fingers behind his sac and pressed firmly. And then he was thrusting frantically into her mouth, making her gag and almost choking her. Once, twice more and he held, his back arching high, and he was crying out and coming again, pulsing in her mouth until his thighs trembled and he fell back onto the bed. She continued to hold him, suckling softly, letting the last weak spurts subside and then she kissed it and let go.   
  
  
With smug little smile she lied down on the pillow next to him while he tried to catch his breath. He was still seeing stars behind his eyelids. Little by little his heart rate slowed down and his breathing steadied.  
  
“Better?”  
  
He smiled. “I was good to start with. But yes, much better. Although I’m sure you knew that already, didn’t you?”  
  
She chuckled drowsily, then yawned. “You did say a hundred times.”  
  
It took him a moment to work out what she was talking about. He laughed. “Not in one go, though!”  
  
…  
  
  
“Granger?”  
  
…  
  
  
He reached to pull the bed covers over them and was asleep before his head touched the pillow.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Croatia, 18th January 2004**   
  
  


Draco woke up to a bright morning light. He had slept soundly for the first time in ages, and felt rested and content. And cold, very cold. He tried to find the duvet by touch, but there was nothing. Annoyed, he opened one eye only to realise he was naked on the bed and the duvet was gone. And so was Granger.   
  
  
He looked around the empty room and saw the balcony doors open. The curtains were billowing, letting in the frigid January air. And between the curtains, Granger, hair wild and waving in the wind, his lovely warm duvet wrapped around her shoulders and trailing on the floor.  
  
He joined her in the balcony, naked and shivering, trying to wrap himself on the length of duvet left on the floor.  
  
“Why are you in my balcony, Granger?” His teeth chattered.  
  
She turned to him, smiling, and opened her arms, welcoming him in.   
  
“Clearing my head, Malfoy. Here, come and get warmed.” She encased him in, bringing the duvet around him and taking him into her warm body. “Merlin, you are freezing!”  
  
“You left me naked and exposed, with the doors open. Is that your new plan to catch me? Wait until I’m down with the flu and then drag me to Azkaban sneezing all the way. Tad undignified.”  
  
She laughed, rubbing him up and down all over to warm him up. “There’s an idea! But no, I was just thinking while admiring the view. You can see the whole of Split from here. It’s stunning.” She was rubbing his back now, pressing her body into his, and she could tell he was indeed getting warmer.  
  
  
…  
  
  
“Erm, Granger, you are touching me.”  
  
“So? What are you going to do about it?”  
  
“Well, for starters I can show you that I don’t usually make love like a fumbling teenager.” He picked her up and sat her on the balustrade.  
  
“Oh, yeah? And how do you plan to do that?”  
  
He opened her legs wider, stepping between them, then rearranged the duvet to cocoon them again. “Well…” He nuzzled her breasts and she chuckled. “First I’ll do this…” He swirled his tongue around one of her nipples and then gave it a sharp little nip. Hermione gasped. “And then this…” he made his way to the other one and closed his lips on the tip, flicking it with his tongue. She moaned and run her fingers through his hair, holding him there. He teased her nipples into hard little peaks, then kissed her deeply, swallowing her moans. His lips trailed softly down her neck to her shoulder and back again to her mouth, smirking briefly on her lips at the needy sigh she breathed. He was rock hard, dripping, aching to be inside her, but damn if he wasn't going to make sure to take her breath away first. He kissed his way down her throat, her chest, her abdomen, then buried his nose in her curls and inhaled deeply. “Gods, Granger.”  
  
“Keep going, you’re doing fairly well.” She sounded needy and out of breath and he laughed.  
  
“Fairly? I’ll have to try harder then.” His voice was low and husky and did funny, twisty things to her insides. He spread her out and gave her a broad thorough lick. She moaned deeply.  
  
  
...  
  
  
Hermione cupped his face and brought his lips to hers for a kiss.  _Bollocks. Enough with the teasing_. She canted her hips while pushing hard on his buttocks with her heels. He slid halfway in with a little gasp.   
  
“Aah, fuck. You have no patience at all, witch.” With a long slow thrust he was in her to the hilt. They both moaned.   
  
  
Out and thrust. Out, thrust, grind.  _Salazar help me, I'm going to disgrace myself again!_ Grind. Out, thrust, harder. "Ah, gods Granger..."  
  
“Bed… Now, bed now.”  
  
  
He picked her off the balustrade then, their centre of gravity shifting, changing the angle and sliding him in deeper in the process. She moaned loudly and bit his neck hard.  
  
“Oh, ffffff… Merlin, Granger, you really do mean to kill me!”  
  
She giggled breathlessly and he whimpered, making his way in. Hermione managed to catch the duvet before it slid to the floor and it trailed behind them and into the bedroom.

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  


They had lunch in a little café behind the Diocletian Palace. It was after all her last day there and she insisted on eating out. Draco would have been more than happy to stay in and lounge about in bed some more, but she would have gone by herself anyway.   
  
  
They were both eating in awkward silence. He cleared his throat, wiped his mouth with his serviette and placed it down on the table with an air of finality.  
  
“So, Granger, tell me why you let me go. You had me fair and square. My memory is a little hazy, but I seem to remember you were calling in your goons when the cave exploded. Why did you do it?”  
  
Hermione looked at him long and hard. Why indeed. “I’m not sure, Malfoy.”  
  
“That’s not a good enough answer. You’ll have to do better.”  
  
“What do you want me to say? I didn’t have a profound revelation and realise I couldn’t possibly hand you over, if that’s what you think. But you almost died, and it scared the shit out of me. I had never seen you look so… vulnerable. It threw me off balance, you were never supposed to be vulnerable. Then they were there and I didn’t think, just reacted.”  
  
  
“Still a little shaky. Try harder.”  
  
  
“What are you expecting, a declaration of undying love? Is that what you think? Merlin, Malfoy, I’m not in love with you. I may be in lust, but that will not stop me from doing what is right when the time comes. This here? This doesn’t change anything. Tomorrow I’ll be an Auror again, you a fugitive and the chase will be on.”  
  
  
He was looking at her coldly, a scowl marring his beautiful face. “I see. Well, tomorrow you’ll be an Auror, but today you’re not. Let’s not waste any more time on meaningless conversation and get down to the fucking. At least you can’t deny you want that, Granger.”

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  


Hermione woke up in the small hours to a feeling of fullness and of a weight pressing down pleasantly on her. They had had hot, angry sex all afternoon, fighting each other to completion again and again until they had fallen asleep in a sweaty tangle out of sheer exhaustion. She was sore, but to her surprise she found her body reacting, tingling, moistening in the right places. Slowly, she opened her eyes.  
  
  
Malfoy was lying on top of her, flush with her body. His eyes were closed and he was worrying his lip with his teeth, a look of utter abandonment on his face as he slid in and out of her slowly, leisurely, lazily. Her heart beat faster and she felt a strange tightening in her chest and the shadow of a feeling that she couldn’t, wouldn’t name. She heard herself whimper.  
  
  
He looked at her and held her gaze silently, without breaking pace. Little by little his thrusts became harder, deeper, sharper, their breathing more laboured. He kissed her deeply, and she kissed him back until she felt him speeding up, her legs going around his hips, holding on tight for the ride, and she knew that she was going to fall over the edge any minute now, and that he was falling with her. She closed her eyes, her head tilting back.  
  
  
“No.” He was cupping her face between his hands. ”Look at me, Granger. I want you to see  _me_  when you come.” Then he was thrusting fast and hard, so close, so close. He was panting and she heard him whimper as she licked his mouth, bit his lip and licked again.  
  
“Tell me I matter.” Her eyes widened. He slowed down, bringing her back from the brink.   
  
  
“Tell me I matter, Granger.” His voice was strained, low and gravelly, and Hermione knew how much this was costing him. He thrust hard again, and she whimpered.  
  
“Tell me the truth. Tell me-”  
  
“Yes! Merlin help me, you do!”  
  
  
He took her mouth on a moan, thrusting frantically, and she gave him her all until the universe exploded in a billion stars.  
  
  
  
When Draco next woke up, she was gone. He closed his eyes tight, willing himself to fall asleep again. He couldn’t.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**London, 20th January 2004**   
  


Hermione stared at the envelope on her desk for a very long time. It hadn’t been there when she had gone out for lunch, she was sure of that. Her secretary couldn’t tell her who had delivered it, as according to her nobody had been to her office while she was away. It was a standard, C4 size, plain looking brown envelope, marked with her name and simply FYEO underneath. For Your Eyes Only. Hermione had checked it for spells and curses, but there were none. Still. Her secretary could have nipped out for a fag or to the loo, so the fact that she hadn’t seen anyone wasn’t that unusual. She let out a little laugh, berating herself for being paranoid. Picking it up carefully, she popped open the back flap, mindful not to tear it. She slid out the contents warily and then froze, a feeling of dread like she hadn’t felt since the war paralysing her  
  
  
It was a wizard photograph, full A4 size and obviously taken with a powerful telephoto lens. A balcony, two people tightly embracing within a fluffy cloud of white, heads and shoulders visible, moving, grinding. His face to the camera, eyes closed, cheeks flushed; then a heated look and he’s picking her off the balustrade, the fabric falling from their bodies, pooling at their feet. He is clearly sheathed inside of her. She bites his neck, legs around his hips. A short pause and then he turns, starting towards a set of French doors, and she reaches out for the duvet as they move, the picture zooming in, her face as clear as looking in a mirror. The loop starts again, and then it repeats. By the fourth time, she reacted. The full implication of the photograph hit her like a punch to the gut. She barely had time to reach out for the paper basket before vomiting her lunch.

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  


Hermione couldn’t sleep, a combination of dread, adrenaline and foreboding keeping her as wide awake and alert as if it was the middle of the day. She rubbed her chest, trying to ease off the constriction that gripped her heart, then looked at the picture for the umpteenth time, touching the little figures with the tip of her index finger, prodding them, as if by doing that they would stop their endless joining and answer her questions.   
  
  
There had been no note with it, no threats, no demands. Hermione would have felt marginally better if there was something to indicate what the photographer’s intentions were. As things stood, she couldn’t shake off the feeling of impending doom.   
  
…  
  
The urge to tell Harry was overwhelming. But she still remembered all too clearly what his reaction had been to that snapshot of them kissing in the newspaper. No, it wouldn’t do any good, telling him. She would have to deal with this herself.  
  
…  
  
How could this have happened? Nobody had known where she was. Then again, Draco had found her. Draco.  _Malfoy_. She looked at the tiny image of him in her hand, tracing the outline of his face with her finger, a small rueful smile gracing her lips. He was heart-achingly beautiful. And although she did regret immensely that she had got herself in this mess, she couldn’t for the life of her repent of what they had done.   
  
  
  
It had been close to six years since the war had ended. Six years. The children they had been and the adults they had become were universes apart. Malfoy had obviously learnt to live with Muggles and to get rid of his prejudices. As far as she knew –and Hermione was sure she would have heard had there been anything to know- he hadn’t hurt anybody, hadn’t done anything wrong since the end of the war. But he had killed a man. He had hurt several other Muggles too.  _I need to bring him to justice_. Didn’t he understand he would never be free unless he faced his past? He would never be free, and neither would she.   
  
  
  
She must hurry. After receiving that photograph, and in the light of all that had happened during the past few months, she knew she had to get to him as soon as possible, before either of them got seriously hurt, or worse. An image of him, deathly pale and bleeding came unbridled into her mind. She felt sick. But if the picture was made public her career would be finished, and then she wouldn’t be in a position to do anything about him anymore. Whoever took over from her would be a million times more vicious, more relentless, more ruthless than she could ever be.   
  
  
  
Hermione thought long and hard, a plan slowly hatching in her mind. By the time she had decided on a course of action, the pale light of dawn was slowly giving way to a misty grey morning. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, wearily. What she was about to do would end her life as she knew it, and she tried to cling to the last moments of normalcy, dreading what lied ahead. But her mind was made: she would speak to Shacklebolt first thing in the morning.  
  
  
  
 **London, 21st January 2004**  
  
  
Kingsley was livid, pacing agitatedly to and fro like a caged animal. He turned to her once, stopping for a moment, then carried on pacing like he couldn’t trust his mouth not to scream at her if he opened it. After a few minutes of this, he took a deep breath and turned back to her, trying to get his temper under control.  
  
  
“How could you have been so stupid. So reckless. You have placed the Ministry in an impossible position.”  
  
“I know. I can’t tell you how sorry I am-“  
  
“Sorry? Your regret means nothing, Granger. Merlin, if this comes to light we’ll be the laughing stock of the wizarding world!” He resumed his pacing, although more measured this time. “I should suspend you immediately, make you face a disciplinary hearing. However, that will only succeed in making the world aware of this farce. It would not be in the Ministry’s best interest. So I’m going to go with your plan, Hermione, because if there is any chance to sort this out before it explodes in our hands, I will take it. I’m not doing it for you; as far as I’m concerned, you’ve dug your own grave and you can lay on it.”  
  
“I understand.” Her voice was choked. “I will reassign my caseload among my fellow Aurors. But we need to stop anyone taking over the Malfoy file, Kingsley. At least while we don’t know who is behind all the attacks.”  
  
“The case will be sequestered as soon as you leave my office.” With that, Shacklebolt sat down, his eyes back to the parchments on his desk.   
  
  
Hermione knew she was dismissed. She got up and walked to the door with a heavy heart. Her hand was on the door handle when he spoke again, still looking at the parchments.  
  
“And Granger? I expect your resignation on my desk as soon as this mess is sorted. I hope it was worth it.”  
  
  
Her eyes filled with tears. This was the end of her career, the end of her dreams. Without another word, she opened the door and walked away.

  
  
  
  


****

  
  
  
  


“Hermione, is it true what I’ve heard? You are taking a sabbatical?”   
  
Harry rushed into her office as she was clearing the accumulated clutter on her desk. Hermione didn’t know who Shacklebolt intended to give her position to, but whoever it was, she didn’t want them to think she was a slob. She looked around her unusually tidy office, then at Harry.  
  
  
“Yes, it’s true. I need to distance myself from all this, Harry. This case, Malfoy, it’s all getting to me in ways I never thought possible.”  
  
“Are you all right? Is there anything you are not telling me?”  
  
“No, of course not. Why would you say that? I just need time to myself, that’s all.”  
  
“Malfoy’s case has been sequestered. I actually thought I’d take over it myself, try to finish this once and for all. But Kingsley told me in no uncertain terms that the case was off-limits for the foreseeable future. And you look unhappy, Hermione. I’m not stupid, you know. You are going after him by yourself, I just know it. I don’t want you to, it won’t end well, believe me. I really don't like where this is going!. I love you, please let me help you.” He looked at her unhappily, hair messier than his normal mess from running his hands through it.  
  
  
Hermione regarded him thoughtfully while the seconds stretched. He seemed anxious and apprehensive, and kept staring at her expectantly. _Oh Harry, my dearest Harry_. It would be so easy to unburden herself, to get it all off her chest, but she had gone too far for that. She smiled at him reassuringly.   
  
“Harry, you are being silly. For now, I’m going to Australia to see my parents, I haven’t visited in almost three years! I don’t know how long I’ll stay, but at some point I plan to visit Winnie and Paolo and take a long deserved break. I need to take control of myself again, however long it takes. Kingsley wants me to run the case once more when I return, provided I'm away no longer than two or three months. I haven’t decided yet, so if I take longer than that, the case will be available again. You have my blessing to take it on if and when it is reopened, if you still want it.”  
  
“You won’t try to find him?”  
  
Hermione laughed. “No, silly, I won’t. That’s not to say that if I saw him somewhere I wouldn’t try to capture him, you know me better than that. But I won’t be looking for him.”  
  
Harry pulled a face. “Be careful, Hermione. Please, don’t try to take him on by yourself. If you do spot him, get in touch with me, I’ll back you up. And don’t stay away too long, you know I’ll miss you every day.” He kissed her cheek, lingeringly. Hermione hugged him hard.  
  
“Don’t worry about me, please. You are my best friend, Harry. You know I love you too, don’t you?”  
  
  
  
  
  
 **New Providence Island, 15th February 2004**  
  
  
  
Hermione exited Nassau International Airport feeling almost as tired and sick as the first time she was there. Looking around for Winnie, she breathed in the balmy Bahamian air; its scent, unique and heady, calming her nerves and settling her stomach. For a moment she felt happy, and a smile tugged at her lips. How she loved this place. She was shocked to realise that those few days spent here had made such a deep impression, but they had. She heard somebody calling.  
  
  
“Hermione, here you are!” Winnie enveloped her in a bear hug. “You look tired and pale, and not at all glamorous. We’ll soon take care of that!”  
  
“Why, thank you very much! You look lovely too, Winnie Bear!” He swatted her arm good-naturedly, then bumped her shoulder with his.  
  
“Come on my lovely, my beautiful Mustang awaits. You know the drill, we’ll drive to my place, have dinner by the pool and then you can tell me what’s bothering you. I want to know everything.”  
  
  
Hermione walked around the stunning blue convertible to the passenger door, dragging her fingers lovingly over the running horse that was the car’s logo. “How is Paolo?” Winston blushed, smiling bashfully.  
  
“He’s well. We are going to his place for breakfast, it’ll be just like old times. Well, almost.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, noticing the stricken look that for a moment took over her face. Silly people, the pair of them! He’ll soon take care of that.  
  
  
  
She had been given the same room she was in last time. She unpacked quickly with the help of her wand and some handy spells, then took a quick shower and changed into a comfortable sun-dress.   
  
Winnie was reclining on the same lounger of that first night last November. He smiled at her, offering her a glass of wine that she accepted gratefully. She sat down on a seat next to his, picking at the tasty hors d’oeuvre arranged on small tables around the recliners.   
  
  
“Tell me, Hermione. What’s eating you?”  
  
Hermione swallowed the little grilled shrimp in her mouth, considering how to best answer him.   
  
“Have you seen Malfoy recently?”   
  
  
Winnie laughed and she blushed, quickly sticking a morsel of cheese and pineapple in her mouth to cover her discomfort. Ugh, she really didn’t like cheese with pineapple.  
  
  
“Yes, he was here not three weeks ago.”   
  
Hermione waited for him to elaborate, but all of a sudden he was busy eating.  
  
“And?”  
  
“What exactly do you want to know?”  
  
“Well, was he all right?”  
  
  
Winnie looked at her for several seconds, then sipped at his wine and shook his head.  
  
“He was just as all right as you are. Tired and pale and not at all glamorous. Are you going to tell me what happened between the two of you? What’s going on, Hermione?”  
  
“Did he say anything?”  
  
“No, he was his usual unsociable self, only more clammed up than normal. He left quite abruptly after only four days. Paolo was totally baffled. He says he hardly slept and rarely ate, but he wouldn’t talk about whatever it is that’s bothering him so much. We are worried, actually. I know he’s supposed to be a criminal and all that, but we actually like him a lot, Hermione. He’s an alright chap, you know, if you look past his snobby airs.”  
  
“I know. I think… I think I’ve seen past those.”  
  
  
Winston looked at her curiously for a long time, while she picked at the food. What the heck, better to get it all out in the open.   
  
“Are you in love with him?”  
  
He expected her to blush, but instead, she paled.   
  
“Truthfully? I don’t know. I think I might be, a little. I know he makes my heart beat faster, that I love being around him. That I respond to his touch like I never have to anyone else’s. And I know we have Alchemy in spades, chemistry, I mean.”  
  
“Yes, we all saw that.” This time, she did blush. “That still doesn’t equal love, my darling. It might just be a strong physical attraction.”  
  
“No, Winnie. Unfortunately I’m starting to believe it might be more than that. I have just done something incredibly stupid for him, and I can’t bring myself to regret it.” And with that, Hermione proceeded to tell him the whole story, starting with the war and their roles in it, all the way to what happened in January, leaving out only the most intimate details. Winston listened intently, only interrupting occasionally to clarify one point or another. When she finished she felt unburdened, like a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Winnie was lost in thought and didn’t say anything for the longest time.  
  
  
The silence stretched uncomfortably, and Hermione started to get up, thinking of retiring to her bedroom.   
  
  
“He killed someone.” He looked so pale and lost that Hermione went to him, sitting on his lounger and putting her arm around his shoulders.  
  
“We were in a war, Winnie. A dirty, messy, horrible war. All parties did things we are not proud of. He was just a child under unbearable pressure. And no, I’m not making excuses for him. I still believe he needs to face the music, pay for his mistakes and then move on. He can’t leave the past behind until he faces it.”  
  
“Have you ever killed anybody?”  
  
She was quiet for several minutes. ”Hermione?”  
  
“Yes” she said in a very small voice. “Yes, I have.”  
  
  
Winston hugged her hard. “We’ll get you through this, little one. Don’t you worry. We’ll get you through this and we’ll get him through it too, and everything will be ok.”  
  
  
  
  
  
 **New Providence Island, 16th February 2004**  
  
  
  
“Herms! I’m so happy you decided to visit! You look… lovely, as… well, actually that’s not true. You look tired-“  
  
“Yeah, I know. Tired and pale and not at all glamorous. I’ve been told already, Paolo.” She laughed as she gave him a hug. “You, in the other hand, look like life is treating you well.” He saw him shoot a glance towards Winnie, who blushed under his gaze.  
  
  
“Yes, well, you know already, don’t you? I am happy, Herms. Happier than I ever remember being. It feels good to be myself at last, all out in the open.”  
  
  
Paolo sat down again to his coffee, Winnie taking the sit next to him. Hermione walked to her usual place and looked at the empty chair next to her. She sighed deeply.  
  
“Yep, he did a lot of that too!” Winnie laughed. Hermione looked mortified.  
  
“Let’s go to Bay Street!” Paolo said like that was the solution to every crisis. “Good old retail therapy, Herms, that’s what you need!”  
  
  
Hermione groaned. It was going to be a very long day.

  
  
  


*****

  
  
  


The day had been hot and very humid, making a mess of her hair, and her lungs feel heavy and waterlogged. They had gone to Bay Street and the Straw Market, where she had been continuously harassed by vendors trying to hustle their wares, then off to lunch, which had been wonderful as always. Winnie left her with Paolo right after lunch, since he had a previous engagement that he couldn’t get out of, so Paolo took it upon himself to keep her entertained. Thoroughly.  
  
  
Later on they were sitting at a wine bar where Paolo had agreed to meet with Winnie. He was sipping his wine slowly, his beautiful indigo eyes fixed on her with a thoughtful look that didn’t escape Hermione.  
  
  
“How much do you know?” Better to get it over with and ask him directly, as she was sure Winston would have said something to his boyfriend. How could he not.  
  
“About your world or about you and Drake?” Hermione’s shock showed on her face.  
  
“He told you about our world?”  
  
“Herms, Winnie and I have no secrets. I must admit it was hard to believe to start with, but after he showed me some of your amazing moving photographs I was more inclined to accept it.” Hermione chuckled. “Pity he is magically-challenged, as he says. Although he is magical enough to me…” Paolo coloured brightly, embarrassed at his own soppiness. “Anyway, he told me many things. Some I believe, some I’m sure he’s embellishing for his own amusement. All in all, I’m honoured to have been let in on the secret and to be part of it, if only in a roundabout way.”  
  
…  
  
“Did he ever tell you about the war?”   
  
“He mentioned it in passing. Apparently he wasn’t required to fight, for which I’m grateful. His father did take a stance, on the side of The Light, whatever that means. I don’t know much about it, though, as Winnie didn’t dwell on it.”  
  
“I was part of it too. At the very centre of it, really. Next to Harry, I fought for the light. Draco… well, he was on the other side. I don’t believe he was given much of a choice, though.”  
  
“Do you mean he was one of those Deadly Eaters? Winnie did tell me about them. Nasty bunch they seem to be, for what I heard. Drake doesn’t seem the type, though. Are you sure he was one of them?”  
  
“Pretty sure. The thing is, Paolo, he needs to go back to the wizarding world and face his past. He is a wanted man there.”  
  
“What did he do?”   
  
“What do people do during a war? He was on the wrong side.”  
  
…  
  
  
“What about your relationship? What will happen if he’s caught?”  
  
“We don’t have a relationship, silly. We are only acquaintances.”  
  
“Bullshit. If that’s true, then why are you both so miserable when you are apart?”

  
  
  


*****

  
  
  


“There he is!” Paolo got up, waving maniacally at somebody across the room. ”Winnie! We are here!”  
  
  
Hermione turned with a smile and a greeting on the tip of her tongue. The smile froze on her lips as her heart somersaulted wildly in her chest. The room around her blurred, and all she could see was  _him_.  
  
  
He seemed to be rooted to the spot, although he recovered pretty swiftly, approaching the table they were occupying with a look of contempt so like his father’s that he could have been a younger version of Lucius. The thought sobered her up enough to recover some semblance of composure.  
  
  
“Granger.” he drawled. “I see I’ve been ambushed.”  
  
“You and I both, Malfoy. I wasn’t expecting you, that’s for sure.”  
  
“I should imagine not. You would have surely run off without a word if you had.” Hermione blushed.   
  
“Well, isn’t this lovely! Just like old times!” Paolo chirped, so cheerfully it made Hermione wince. “Now, where shall we go for dinner?”  
  
“Er, maybe it would be better to eat at your place. Or mine.” Winnie intercepted. “I think these two have things to discuss, and I’m sure it won’t be pretty.” He was talking into Paolo’s ear, loud enough that everybody heard.  
  
“I can make my own way.” Malfoy’s eyes were focused on Paolo, the sneer fixed on his lip. “Just let me know where you’ll all be and I’ll make sure to go to the other house.”  
  
“Nonsense. We’ll all drive together. Let me call my house to get dinner started. This is going to be so much fun!”

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  


The trip back to Palms House was anything but. Hermione sat on the front next to Winnie, while Paolo and Malfoy took the back seats. Nobody uttered a word, and the tension was so thick, it could have been cut with a knife.  
  
  
They arrived at the house and went straight through the little Andalusian patio to the veranda adjacent to the pool. The table was set, and they all approached it silently. Paolo kept shooting looks at Winston, who shrugged his shoulders and pulled a face.  
  
  
“Oh, this is lovely!” Hermione clapped, taking in the beautifully set table, the pretty flower arrengements and the large tureen of Vichyssoise sitting on a platter of ice. Malfoy grunted and sat down  
  
“Drake, mate. Did you just growl? Is anything wrong?”  
  
“I don’t  _growl_ , Boccioni. I was merely commenting on Granger’s enthusiasm. She’s obviously not used to seeing a decently set table.”  
  
Hermione bristled.  _So, this is how it’s going to be. Have it your way_. She took her place next to him.  
  
“Au contraire, Malfoy. I was actually complimenting our host on a very nice set up." Her voice turned sugary sweet. "You should try your hand at civility sometime.”   
  
“Ah, I see. Do you mean like having the  _courtesy_  of disappearing without a word? Such good manners, no wonder you are giving me lessons.”  
  
“Bitter, much? Maybe you should have tried to keep me interested enough not to run a mile!”  
  
“Oh, you  _were_  interested enough! I still have the marks on my body to prove it, even a month later!”  
  
Hermione’s lips twitched. “Really? You do?”  
  
Malfoy blushed faintly, shooting a sharp look at the other couple. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Granger.”   
  
  
  
Dinner was much more relaxed an affair after that exchange. Although they didn’t go as far as conversing, Hermione did ask Draco to pass the salt once without dire consequences. Winnie smiled. All was well.

  
  
  


*****

  
  
  


“Malfoy. A word.”   
  
They were all lounging comfortably on the large sitting area by the pool. Paolo and Winnie were actually lying down on a day bed, talking quietly between themselves and, Hermione suspected, trying to give them some space. Malfoy continued to twirl his wine glass, completely ignoring her.  
  
  
“I said I want a word, Malfoy. In private. Now.”  
  
“I heard you the first time. I’m just not in the mood to take orders. Plus, I’m comfortable here.”  
  
Ok, time for a different approach. She crouched in front of him, almost between his legs, and covered his hands with hers.   
  
“Draco.” He looked at her, startled, eyes widening. “I have something I need to discuss with you. Will you walk with me?” She was rubbing circles with her thumb on his skin.  
  
She saw him wet his lips and stood up, extending her hand to him. “Please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”  
  
Reluctantly he rose, ignoring her hand. “Lead the way then, Granger.”  
  
  
  
They wandered into the beautiful gardens lit only by the radiance of the moon and the occasional spotlight illuminating a palm tree. The silence was so deep, she wondered whether he could hear the thump-thump-thumping of her heart. He stopped her when they got to a small clearing surrounded by lush vegetation.  
  
  
“This is far enough, Granger. What did you want to talk about?”  
  
  
Hermione turned to face him. She could barely make out his face in the shadows, but his hair was a beacon in the dark. She chuckled.  
  
  
“Malfoy, with hair like that, however do you manage to be stealthy? Wherever you go, anyone can spot you coming a mile away.”  
  
He turned around and started back the way they came.   
  
“Right, if that was all…”  
  
She grabbed his arm, stopping him.   
  
“Sorry. I do need to talk to you. Seriously.”  
  
“Talk away then. I don’t have all night.”  
  
She sighed, opening her little beaded bag. After rummaging for a minute, she retrieved the brown envelope and took out the photograph, handing it to him.   
  
  
“What is this?” He cast a silent Lumos and examined the picture for several long minutes. “Granger, what is the meaning of this?”  
  
“I received it a couple of days after I got back. No clue who it’s from or what they want.”  
  
“It has to be the same person behind the attacks. Was there anything else? Why would they do this? Did they expect you to back off or to run straight to me?”  
  
“No idea about any of that. But I told Shacklebolt everything. I’m no longer a Ministry employee, though officially I’m taking a sabbatical. Don’t worry, your file has been sequestered for the time being.”  
  
  
Malfoy was pacing, thinking, pacing some more.   
  
  
“We need to draw him out, Granger. We need to be the predator before we become the prey.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“Let me sleep on it. We’ll discuss it tomorrow.” He looked again at the picture, chuckling low in his throat. “What a day, that one.”   
  
She sighed. "Yes. What a day."  
  
  
He was seeking her eyes in the wand light, searching, like he was trying to see inside her heart.   
  
  
“Do you regret it?”  
  
“No.”  
  
...  
  
  
“I can’t forget. It didn’t make it better.”  
  
“No, it didn’t.”  
  
  
He was moving towards her like she was pulling on a cord. Hermione shivered, blood rushing loudly in her ears.  
  
  
"Do you ever think about it?"  
  
" _All_  the time."  
  
  
He was so close, so close. Hermione could feel the heat radiating from his body, and it was scorching her. His lips were millimetres away.  
  
  
“Granger...” Merlin, his voice. That low, gravelly drawl she remembered all too well. She felt herself melting, her heart running wild.  
  
The barest touch of breath on breath. She closed her eyes, her lips parting and the air was fire between their mouths. He took her bottom lip between his own as he inhaled, softly brushing it with his tongue. She suckled it into her mouth, caressing it with her own and one of them whimpered. The other shuddered on a moan.  
  
  
“Drake! Hermione! Have you killed each other yet? You have been gone an awful long time!” Winnie was shouting. They heard Paolo giggle.  
  
  
Shutting his eyes tight for a moment, he pulled away with a frustrated exhale. She cupped his cheek with an unsteady hand, panting, unable to talk, and he held it there and kissed her palm, his own hand trembling.  
  
  
“Tomorrow, Granger.” he murmured against her skin. And she hoped it was a promise.

 


	8. Chapter 8

  
**New Providence Island, 17th February 2004**   
  
  
  


“Morning, handsome!” Hermione looked around, surprised to find him alone. “Where is Malfoy?”   
  
  
  
Paolo indicated the huge glass doors that led into the house with a toss of his head while swallowing his coffee. Winnie gave him a quick hug from behind and sat down beside him.  
  
  
“Take the door on the right out of the sitting room, his bedroom is the third one, again on the right.”  
  
“And take your time, Hermione, we know you have things to …  _discuss_.” Winston snickered and Paolo elbowed him hard on the side.   
  
She shot him a glare and walked into the house.  
  
  
Hermione knocked on the door and entered without pausing.  _If this is a guest bedroom, I’d like to see the master suite_ , she thought as soon as she laid eyes on it. Then she noticed the shrunk down piece of luggage on the bedside table and the half packed one on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. She gingerly ran her fingers down the front of a perfectly folded shirt, a choking tightness constricting her chest.  
  
“I never thought I’d catch you snooping, Granger.”  
  
She turned around and her mouth went dry. He was towelling his hair roughly, another towel wrapped around his waist, obviously fresh from the shower. She licked her lips and swallowed, clearing her throat before she could trust herself to speak.  
  
“You are leaving.” It wasn’t a question. He stopped drying his hair and looked at her.  
  
“Yes, in a few hours.”  
  
“But I thought-“  
  
“I was going to talk to you after breakfast. I have an idea how to do this, only it’ll take me a few days to get everything sorted and there isn’t much time. I can’t do it from here.”  
  
“Oh. Ok. It’s just that yesterday… never mind. We can talk later.” She started towards the door. “I’ll leave you to get dressed.”  
  
She was turning the handle when he spoke.  
  
“Or, you could stay.”  
  
  
Hermione looked back over her shoulder. His hair was wet and ruffled and sticking out at odd angles, the towel he had been using to dry it clasped tightly in his fists, belying the ease of his stance. He had a smirk on his lips and uncertainty in his eyes, and her longing for him became a physical ache. She took a deep breath and ambled back into the room.  
  
“Yes, I could stay. But I wouldn’t let you get dressed, and you haven’t had breakfast.” She was moving slowly towards him.   
  
“Breakfast is overrated.”   
  
  
She let her sundress slip to the floor and unclasped her bikini top as she passed by his side, shrugging off her last bit of clothing just before kneeling on the bed. She turned to him, reaching out with her hand.   
  
He didn't move for a second, then let go of the towel he was clutching. The one around his hips slid off as he twined his fingers with hers. He leaned over to take her lips, one knee on the bed. Her hand found the back of his neck and she sighed as she opened to his kiss, letting herself fall backwards, taking him with her.  
  
He entered her in that same motion, then stilled within her. Hermione held her breath.  
  
 _Draco_.   
  
His arms were shaking and she pulled him to her, cradling him close to her body, rolling her hips against his. He shuddered from head to toe, then responded with a thrust that made him moan, and thrust again, and moan again. She couldn't take her eyes off him and he couldn't look away.  
  
 _Tell me you're mine.  
  
I'm yours._  
  
  
Hermione knew that she was lost, and yielded to these feelings that were so much stronger than her. Then she saw the complete surrender on his face and felt her heart squeeze to breaking point. She pressed her lips to his forehead, her arms melding him to her.  
  
“Oh, gods,” he whispered against her skin, “my Granger.”  
  
  
  
 **Los Angeles, 28th February 2004**  
  
  
Hermione, Paolo and Winnie checked into the Bel-Air Hotel the day before the Oscars. Emanuele Boccioni had a stake on the Chalon suite, which gave him and his family the right to check in at short notice. Paolo had called the hotel eight days before, as soon as Draco had confirmed the plan was going ahead.  
  
The suite was beautiful, luxurious in an understated sort of way. Hermione loved the extensive garden that was theirs to enjoy, and wondered how much land this hotel had, to afford private gardens this large; and just how much this suite cost per night. She smiled to herself, thinking - not for the first time - that the high life wasn't so bad after all. She could get used to this.   
  
  
They had dinner outdoors, going over the plan again, making sure they hadn’t overlooked anything. Too soon, it was time to make the call to the Ministry.

  
  
  


*****

  
  
  


Winnie walked through the French doors back into the garden.  
  
  
“How did it go?”  
  
“Great. They officially approved for me to be your back up, since it’s far too short notice to assign anybody from England. Their words, not mine. They will not be sending anyone.”  
  
“Good. I spoke to Shacklebolt on his private Floo this afternoon. He will stop any person who volunteers to assist. And all official Portkeys for tomorrow will be denied, so if we see a face from the Ministry, that will be our man.”  
  
“I wish I was going too.” Paolo whinged. “Why do you have to have ALL the fun? The one time I could have gone to the Oscars and I’m going to miss it!”  
  
“If nothing happens at the Awards, we’ll meet you at the Vanity Fair party afterwards. Don’t complain, Munchkin,” Winston gave his boyfriend a peck on the lips, “you’ll still have plenty of fun; I’ll make sure of that.”  
  
  
  
 **Los Angeles, 29th February 2004**  
  
  
The day of the 76th Academy Awards arrived, cold and clear, and Hermione was feeling more apprehensive than she ever remembered being before an assignment. Not only about the stunt they were trying to pull, but about seeing Malfoy, as well. Since the day he left New Providence, she had only spoken to him a handful of times, and never about anything personal. He had been direct and to the point every time, and deep down she was wondering whether that last day hadn't been enough to, as he put it, “make it better” after all.   
  
  
The morning went by very quickly. Then the boys sprung on her that they had booked a hairdresser to  _help her_. An argument ensued, although in the end she found it easier to go along with it. And it distracted her from her gloomy thoughts.  
  
By the time the hairdresser turned up, Hermione’s practical mind had taken over. After all, she needed to keep a clear head, so she concentrated on the job at hand as she would have had for any other assignment.  
  
Her hair was pinned up and her make-up was done, and she was very amused by the result. She looked like a doll, she thought. She pulled a face, laughing at herself in the mirror.  
  
  
“Hermione!” Winnie was pounding on her door. “Hurry up, will you? We are leaving in forty-five minutes and you still haven’t had your lunch!”  
  
“What do you mean, forty-five minutes? It’s only just two o’clock, Winston. It’s a twenty minutes ride and the ceremony doesn’t start until five!”  
  
“If we are not on our way before three, we’ll never make on time. You’ll see!”  
  
 _Merlin, this is ludicrous_ , she thought as she put on her dress. “If I have to sit in a car for two hours, I’m taking a book, Winston!”  
  
  
She felt very self-conscious as she walked into the sitting room. She had bought a nude colour silk organza embroidered gown, sewn in spiral bands, by Oscar de la Renta. It was soft and flowing and made her skin look like peaches and cream. The boys thought she looked stunning. She thought she looked like somebody that wasn’t her.

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  


The ride took just as long as Winnie had said it would. Sunset Boulevard, as they got closer to Hollywood, was chock-a-block with cars. Their driver decided to take a detour through Santa Monica Boulevard, and then up Highland Avenue. Unfortunately, many other people had had the same idea. By the time they got to the vicinity of the Kodak Theatre, the crowds were so thick the car was moving at a crawl.   
  
  
At last they were heading towards the crossing with Hollywood Boulevard and Hermione could almost make out the turning, but the endless parade of limousines and the sheer numbers of people, general public as well as the media, made it impossible to advance.  
  
“Come on, Winston. We are getting out. I’ll be a lot faster to walk.”  
  
“Are you crazy? By the time we get there, we’ll look a fright!”  
  
“I don’t care! We’ll look just fine for the job.”  
  
“Hermione, we can’t do that. We’ll get mauled. And you’re wearing Mrs Boccioni’s diamonds! Please, have a little patience.”  
  
  
  
They had arrived at last, stepping onto the red carpet that led to the Grand Staircase. Hermione was clutching Winston’s arm to numbness. He patted her hand.   
  
“Just wave and smile, we’ll be inside in no time.”  
  
She wasn’t prepared for the noise, the screaming, the sheer amount of camera flashes or all the microphones that were being shoved her way.  
  
“Mischa! People Magazine! Care to comment about your alleged involvement with co-star Benjamin McKenzie?”  
  
“Mischa! Is this your new love interest? Any comments?”   
  
“And here arrives Mischa Barton, the beautiful Marissa Cooper in the O.C. in a stylish Oscar de la Renta gown, with a handsome escort on her arm. We wonder if-“  
  
  
“Who the hell are they talking about?” Hermione muttered under her breath as she plastered a fake smile on her face. Winnie shrugged.  
  
“No idea. But they obviously think you are somebody else, so suck it up, cross your fingers and pray that she’s not in the next car.”  
  
  
  
Things got easier once they were inside the hall of the theatre. Hermione cast a mild Disillusionment charm, to ensure they would be left alone and to have a chance to look for familiar faces in case their man was already there. They spotted Malfoy.  
  
He had his arm wrapped around a beautiful, fresh faced girl with honey blonde hair, wearing a stunning blue gown. She was talking to a reporter and there were TV cameras all around. Hermione’s cheeks heated up.  
  
  
“Who’s that with Draco?  
  
“Erm, I’ve seen her in some series, bugger, I can’t remember… Jessica something or another.”  
  
“She’s very pretty.” Winnie let out a booming laughter.  
  
“Don’t tell me you are jealous! Hermione, he hasn’t had eyes for anybody else in months!”   
  
“Well, he definitely has eyes now! Have you seen the way he’s looking at her?”   
  
“It’s all for the cameras, you silly girl. You know what a poser he is.”  
  
“Hmpf!”  
  
  
  
They walked inside the auditorium, where they were ushered to their seats.  
  
“What now?”  
  
“Now, we wait. Brace yourself, Hermione. This goes on and on and on. For a very long time.”

  
  
  
  


*****  
  
  
  


They were roughly halfway through the ceremony. Sting and Phil Collins were presenting the Best Original Score Award, which would undoubtedly go to the Lord of the Rings film, since it seemed to be sweeping away all of the prizes. They had been sitting and clapping for over two hours now, and Hermione was getting really impatient. She could see Malfoy and his date (or was he  _her_  date) sitting one row behind and to the left of them. She was tired and edgy and rather bored, not having seen any of the films nominated. And she hated Billy Crystal.  _Merlin, I have to get out of here_.  
  
  
“Sorry, but I need to go to the ladies’ or I’ll go crazy,” she murmured to her companion. “If nothing has happened so far, I very much doubt it will while I’m away from my seat. It’ll be probably at the party later.”  
  
“Probably. Or it won’t happen at all. Who knows. You go and take a break.”  
  
  
  
Hermione left the auditorium through a side door, and was surprised at the amount of people running about outside. She walked down a side corridor that didn’t seem so busy, relishing the chance to simply stretch her legs. She spotted a door marked “Authorised Personnel Only” and tried it. It was locked, nothing that a simple Alohomora couldn’t solve.   
  
  
She was in the trap room, right underneath the stage. She looked around with interest as she stretched her back, listening to the muffled noise coming from above.  _Oh, for the love of Circe, won’t they finish up already!_  
  
  
She almost jumped out of her skin when a pair of arms grabbed her, and her wand was out and pressed hard under a chin in a fraction of a second.  
  
  
“Granger, for Salazar’s sake! Lower your wand.”  
  
She almost did. Then she remembered the way he had been looking at his date and pressed harder.  
  
“What do you want, Malfoy.”   
  
“Truthfully? To hold you against a wall and debauch you.” He swatted her wand out of the way.  
  
“Why don’t you go and debauch that little trollop you came with.” He let out a surprised laugh.  
  
“Oh, Merlin, you are priceless! Don’t tell me you are jealous.” He grabbed her wand hand, fearing a hex. “Listen, amusing as this is, I just wanted to tell you I may have seen Riddley in the crowd outside.”  
  
“Riddley? Are you sure? I’m surprised, I really didn’t think it would turn out to be him.”   
  
“I could be wrong, I thought I saw him one moment and then I didn’t anymore. But be on your guard just in case.”  
  
“Yes, well, I’ll let Winnie know.” She yanked her hand away when she realised he was still holding it. “Better go back inside; I’ll see you at the party.”   
  
  
She was almost at the door when she heard him.  
  
“She’s not 'my date,' you know? Just a good friend.” She looked back at him. “You look beautiful, Granger.”   
  
He took out his wand and flicked it in her direction, muttering under his breath. Hermione felt a tingle, then her hair tumbled down in a mess of curls. Draco smiled. “ _Now_  you look stunning.”

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  


The Grand Ballroom at the Kodak Theatre was a bustling mix of winners and losers and hangers-on, waiters and champagne and hundreds of tables, there to feed the hungry guests after sitting for so many hours through the ceremony. Hermione looked around, surprised at how many of these faces she could actually put a name to.  
  
  
They never let Malfoy out of their sight, concerned that anything could happen at any moment.  
  
“This is too full of people, Hermione. No one in their right mind would chance an attack here.”  
  
“Yes, well. You never know. There will be almost as many people at the Vanity Fair party. I wonder whether this was such a good idea after all.” She sipped her champagne. "This is very good, by the way!”  
  
“Go easy on it. You’ll need a clear head.” Winnie caught Draco’s eye and gestured with a flick of his head towards the door. “Come, we need a word with Drake.”  
  
  
  
They met in a little recess by the side of the door. Draco had undone his bowtie, which now hung loosely around his neck, and Hermione thought that dressed in a Muggle tux, he looked good enough to eat.  
  
  
“Everything all right?” he asked as he joined them.  
  
“Drake, mate, we are thinking that they are not going to make a move as long as we are here. For one thing, they would have to have an invitation, and for other, this is way too crowded.”  
  
“Yes, we should make a move soon. It’s a ten minute ride to Melrose Avenue, but with the amount of people going, it will take a lot longer.”  
  
“Are you going with the girl?” Hermione asked.  
  
“Her name is Jessica. And yes, to answer your question, I am. Though her boyfriend is having dinner at Morton’s so once there, I’ll be on my own.”  
  
“If you arrive before us, stick around the TV people until we get there. If we are there first, we’ll do the same.”   
  
“Don’t worry, Granger. But once we are in, we need to create an opportunity. Here is what I’m thinking.”

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  


The trip to Morton’s was almost as painful as the drive to the Oscars had been, although this time, Hermione did manage to convince Winnie to walk the last block. Malfoy was again standing by his date as she posed for pictures. He acknowledged them with a quick lift of his eyebrows. Hermione and Winnie walked unhurriedly and took a couple of drinks from a passing waitress. As agreed, they made their way to the back terrace and down the steps to the garden.  
  
  
“Winnie, please make sure you don’t lose us, but try to be as inconspicuous as you can. This has to be believable.”  
  
“What do I do if he casts a Disillusionment charm? Hermione, I’m concerned. I have no magic, what if I can’t get to you?”  
  
“Winston! Now is not the time to panic.” Hermione had a good look around. There was a gazebo to the side surrounded by a tall ornamental hedge that seemed to twist and then curl on itself. She had found the perfect place. The hedge afforded a good look of the gazebo while keeping anyone fairly well hidden.  
  
  
“Here. This lovers' niches are perfect. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here while I look for Malfoy-”  
  
“Can’t I find Paolo first? I promised him-“  
  
“Please. Now is not the time. You are my back-up, Winnie. I’m relying on you.”  
  
She gave him a quick hug. “The moment you don’t see us any longer, walk towards the gazebo. I will cast a Finite as soon as I can.”  
  
“Good luck, Herms.”  
  
“You too.”

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  


It was impossible to find anyone in that mass of people. Hermione kept trying to spot a familiar face from the Ministry, but all she could see around her were actors and actresses and cinema people. She did spot Malfoy’s date, but she was with a tall handsome chap Hermione didn’t know.   
  
  
She was on her second glass of champagne and getting desperate when she felt a pair of arms encircle her waist. He leaned to talk into her ear.  
  
“Were you looking for me?”  
  
“Oh, thank goodness, I thought I was too late!”  
  
“Your concern is touching, after the mood you’ve been in all day. So you are back to caring now?”  
  
“Try to focus, Malfoy. There are more pressing matters to attend to.”  
  
“We are good to go, then. Right, lead the way.”

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  


“Slow down, Granger. We are supposed to be going for a romp, not a race.”  
  
“You certainly know how to sweet-talk a lady!”  
  
“I wasn’t aware you needed sweet-talking. You’ve always seemed eager before!”  
  
Hermione drew her wand.  
  
“Malfoy, watch that tongue of yours or I assure you it won’t remain in your mouth for much longer.” He laughed mockingly.  
  
“Empty threats, Granger. I know how much you enjoy having it in  _your mouth_ , among other places.” He smirked.  
  
“If you think I’m letting you stick your tongue down my throat, you have another think coming. I can’t put things in my mouth when I don’t know where they’ve been!”  
  
Draco stopped, all amusement leaving his eyes.  
  
“Please tell me this isn’t about Jessica. I don’t think I like your attitude, Granger. I believe I explained myself enough. This isn’t funny any longer.”   
  
She lowered her wand and her shoulders sagged.  
  
“It’s not about her, Draco. You left twelve days ago, right after we made love, and I haven’t heard a word from you since. Except to me give orders or directions. So tell me, how can I not think that this last time obviously 'made it all better'? I don’t like being played with, that’s all.”  
  
She was looking down at the floor, blushing furiously. He lifted her chin, nudging it until she looked at him.  
  
“Do you have any idea how difficult this has been to organise?" he said very softly. "This is the Oscars. To get invitations for Winston and yourself, and to find somebody who not only was invited but agreed to take me instead of their boyfriend was close to impossible. I can’t even list the amount of people I’ve seen, begged, flattered and paid.” He run his knuckles gently down her face until his hand came to rest on the crook of her neck. “It didn’t make it better, Hermione. If anything, every time I see you it gets a little worse.” He was murmuring so low now that she had to strain to hear him. His thumb was tracing the shell of her ear over and over, and she could feel him pulling her to him. Awareness hit her just in time. She whipped out her wand and pointed it at his chest.  
  
“What the-“  
  
“Not here. Shit, Draco, you can’t kiss me here!” She was whispering urgently. “We need to get to the gazebo!”  
  
  
He jumped back, grabbed her hand and ran, dragging her behind. She squeezed his hand and laughed, trying to keep up.

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  
  
  
“Now, where were we.”  
  
  
Hermione slid her hands up his chest and around his shoulders while she angled her neck to look for Winnie. A shadow shifted slightly within the hedge and very fleetingly a hand gave her the thumbs- up, quickly disappearing again.  
  
“Winston is in position and alert,” she mumbled into his ear. She took his lobe between her lips and grazed it with her teeth. Then her mouth moved to his neck, leaving a trail of wet nibbling kisses. Draco pushed against her.  
  
“Granger.” He said gruffly. “This is supposed to be pretend.”   
  
  
Her hands slid to his hair and brought his mouth to hers, kissing him deeply, urgently, and he kissed back just as desperately, pressing into her with his whole body.  
  
  
  
They kept swaying, devouring each other, until he pulled back with a deep groan, his breathing ragged and frayed.  
  
“Touch me,” he panted. Something coiled tight in her belly.  
  
“This isn’t th—“  
  
“Please…” his voice was hoarse and strained and thick with need. “Touch me.” He took her hand, sliding it down his front, and she could feel the muscles in his abdomen twitching at her touch. At the waistband of his trousers, he let her hand go.  
  
“I need you. Please.” He pushed into her hand and bit his lip hard, stifling a moan.  
  
  
Hermione forgot herself, the assignment, Winnie watching, the danger they were in. She seized his mouth in a hungry kiss and slipped her hand inside his trousers, barely grazing his head with the tips of her fingers. He hissed against her lips and she wrapped her hand around him, stroking him once from root to tip. His head fell back and he closed his eyes, a rumbling cry rising from deep within his chest.  
  
“Ah, fff… gods, Hermione.” Christ, how she loved this man.  
  
"Draco, I-"  
  
  
  
“Well, well, well. Isn’t this cosy?”  
  
Draco’s head snapped forwards and Hermione froze. She looked towards Winnie’s hiding place and saw him looking around, bewildered. She withdrew her hand and cast a quick Finite. Less than half a second before Riddley got their wands.  
  
  
“Accio wands!” They flew into his hand and he turned his own towards Winnie, who was running to them.” Petrificus Totalus!”  
  
  
“Riddley, please. You don’t have to do this. Lower your wand.”  
  
“Hermione, I’ve given you every chance to catch him, first by yourself and then even lending you a hand. You kept letting him go again and again. It wasn't right, you know? And then you had to go and become that shitty scum’s whore. A Death Eater’s whore, Hermione. You can't imagine how I felt when I realised it was for real. I thought you were trying to seduce him, to lure him into a trap. That's what we had agreed! But no, you had to go and fall for him, didn't you? Do you look at his arm when he's fucking you? Do you kiss his Mark? You are a sick fuck, Hermione.”  
  
“Scott, please, listen to me…”  
  
“Don’t worry. I’ll Obliviate you.“ Hermione whimpered. “You’ll forget your stupid infatuation with that piece of shit, you’ll see. Everything will be back to normal soon.” Riddley turned towards Draco then, wand swishing.  
  
“Diffindo!”  
  
“NO!” Hermione shoved Malfoy to the side and they both tumbled to the floor.  
  
“Are you all right?” she asked him, already getting up. He nodded, rising slowly.  
  
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake!" Riddley pointed his wand again.  
  
“Diff…”  
  
  
He never got to finish the incantation, as a heavy terracotta pot smashed into his skull.   
  
“If you ever touch my boyfriend again, I’ll kill you, you asshole!”  
  
“Paolo! Oh, my God, am i glad to see you!”  
  
  
Hermione rushed to get her wand then pointed it at Riddley, casting a quick Incarcerous before he could recover.   
  
She turned then to the prone figure of Winnie, still Petrified on the grass, whispering a Finite. He still didn't move.  
  
"Why isn't he getting up?"  
  
She tried again. "Rennervate!" She was relieved when she heard him groan. "Go to him, Paolo.”   
  
He was staring at Riddley with a puzzled look and didn't move.  
  
“Herms, look! What’s wrong with his skin?”  
  
  
Hermione approached the bound, unconscious wizard. She could see his features distorting, changing.  
  
“Polyjuice.” She was going to explain what it was, but Winnie moaned and Paolo ran to help him.  
  
  
Hermione kept her eyes fixed on the transforming wizard. Riddley’s countenance was melting away, and a familiar face was emerging.   
  
“Oh Merlin, no! It can’t be.” Her heart pounded hard, dismay and disbelief written all over her face. And there it was, blonde hair, round face… “Hannah?”  
  
  
Just then, she heard Draco call her very softly.  
  
“Granger.”  
  
She turned around, catching his eyes, and frowned. Something was not right. She saw him sway and then his legs gave and he sank to his knees.  
  
  
Hermione heard her own scream as she rushed to him. She took him in her arms, holding him against her as he collapsed, looking uncomprehendingly at the ever growing crimson rose spreading on his chest.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**London, 1st March 2004**

Harry didn’t think Hermione had been home yet since arriving from L.A. She was wearing an Auror training suit that was far too big on her slight frame, and her hair was a frizzy mess obscuring her face. Hermione’s head was resting on her crossed arms on the table and Harry thought she may be asleep. Harry hesitated, leaning on the door jamb watching her rest, not wanting to disturb her.   
  
  
“Are you going to watch me all evening?” Hermione looked up. Her eyes were red and puffy and she looked very pale, but there was unmistakeable love in the way she regarded Harry. His heart went to her.   
  
“Why didn’t you tell me?”   
  
Hermione huffed, blowing a stray curl away from her eyes.  
  
“And what would you have said? ‘Oh, Hermione, I’m so happy you fell in love with a runaway Death Eater! I always thought you’d make a lovely couple!’ Yeah,” she scoffed, “as if...” She looked at Harry and her voice trailed off. Harry’s eyes were as wide as saucers.  
  
“You are in love with Malfoy? Merlin, Hermione! I thought-”  
  
“So what were you talking about? I thought you had realised-“  
  
“No, no, you can tell me anything. I just… I spoke to Shacklebolt. I got the idea that this was more like an unfortunate fling. I didn’t understand-”  
  
“Yes, because I would give up my career for a  _shag_. Honestly, Harry.” Her eyes welled up. “Have you heard any news? Nobody is telling me anything. I’m out of my mind with worry.”  
  
“Sorry, not much. Last I heard Hannah had been released from hospital, bar the formalities. A Ministry escort will be bringing her in sometime tonight.”   
  
“And Draco?” Hermione looked away.   
  
“Still in a magically induced coma, as far as I know. The curse cut deep. It did a lot of damage.” Harry looked at her with pity. “Sorry, Hermione.” She shrugged her shoulders tiredly.  
  
“At least he’s alive. You can’t imagine… he was dying in my arms, Harry. I thought… Gods. Can’t he be transferred to St. Mungo’s?”   
  
“International medical transfers are tricky. It could do more harm than good. Kentigern is a first-rate magical hospital, Hermione. He’ll be well looked after… I can’t believe I’m reassuring you about  _Malfoy_. Are you going to tell me how that happened?”  
  
“I will, I promise, but not now. I’m barely holding it together, Harry. I don’t think I could bear to talk about it.”  
  
“Come here, you.” Harry opened his arms and Hermione melted into a comforting embrace, breathing in his familiar scent. It calmed her down immediately. “You can always talk to me. About anything, you know? I love you, Hermione. You are the only family I have.” Harry kissed the top of her head, tightening his hold. “We’ll sort this out. You’ll see.”  
  
  
  
  
 **London, 2nd March 2004**  
  
  
  
Hermione woke up with a start. She was soaked in sweat, her heart beating wildly. She wiped her eyes dry and swallowed back a sob.  
  
Taking her wand from under her pillow, Hermione cast a quick Tempus. 3:57 am. She threw back her duvet and went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, realising it would be impossible to go back to sleep.  
  
  
The dream had been a vivid recount of that evening and very distressing. Draco lying in her arms, unconscious, bleeding. Dying. Winston screaming at her to  _please do something_ , and Paolo’s ragged sobs. Her panicky attempts at casting Healing Charms, hands shaking so badly her wand wouldn’t respond. Winnie’s frantic call to the Ministry on a  _Muggle phone_ , of all things. The American DMLE and their Containment Squad and the Magical Emergency team… She had been shoved away unceremoniously, witch and wizard-medics taking over. Draco had been Disapparated to Kentigern Hospital for Magical Maladies within minutes of that first phone call, and Hermione hadn’t seen him since.  
  
  
Hermione let her tears flow, going over the events of that evening like she had already done a thousand times. She could still hear Draco’s voice, so low and gravelly and full of desire.  
  
 _Touch me_.   
  
Something gripped her insides and squeezed so tight she thought she would break. It was all Hermione’s fault. She had been the only Auror there, the one expected to keep a clear head. The one in charge. She should have been alert and focussed, but instead she had got so completely lost in him, and it might cost Draco his life. Hermione felt her throat constricting to the point of suffocation and took a few gulps of air, trying to fend off the panic attack she could feel looming.  
  
  
She forced her thoughts to turn to Hannah. Hermione had trusted the girl with her life. Literally. A hundred memories ran through her mind. Assignments, missions, coffee and scones in the Ministry’s canteen. A shopping trip to Diagon Alley. Finnegan’s wedding and skipping drunkenly in the rain. She remembered Hannah holding her tight just after the Battle, when they realised Ron would never wake up, Harry kneeling by his side, too broken and grief-stricken to offer any comfort. Hannah held her for hours, until Hermione had run out of tears.   
  
 _What did I miss? How didn’t I see it?_    
  
Was she trying to help Hermione? Did she hate Malfoy? It didn’t make any sense. Why would she do this? Hermione needed to know. She would go to the Ministry in the morning and hope that Shacklebolt still cared enough for Hermione to grant her a meeting with Hannah.

  
  


*****

  
  
  
“You have five minutes.”  


Hermione observed the girl sitting in the interrogation room through the one-way glass. Hannah’s head was bandaged and she looked pale, but she was calm and serene. The manacles chaining her to the floor were too big for her small wrists, and Hermione felt a lump in her throat at the sight. She took a deep breath and walked in.  
  
  
“Hannah.” She sat on the opposite side of the table. Hannah looked up, her face expressionless.  
  
“Hi.” She didn’t say anything else, her eyes drifting to a random groove etched on the surface of the table. She traced it absentmindedly, over and over.  
  
Hermione watched her do it for a while, collecting her thoughts. This scenario was so wrong. She cleared her throat.  
  
“Are you going to tell me why?” Hannah lifted her eyes, focussing on Hermione.  
  
“What do you want me to say?” Her fingers strayed back to the groove. Hermione felt a pang of annoyance.  
  
“You fucked up, Hannah. I want to know why you did it.”   
  
Hannah bristled furiously, an unexpected surge of magic crackling through her like electricity.”  
  
“I fucked up? That’s rich coming from you! I wasn’t the one sleeping with the enemy!”  
  
“Hannah, Malfoy is not the enemy. Not any more. You know as well as I do that his crimes relate solely to the war. He deserved to be brought to justice. What he didn’t deserve was a Diffindo to the chest.”  
  
“Says you!” Hannah laughed bitterly. “Talion Law, Hermione. He killed, he dies. You have grown soft and complacent and you are blinded by your love. You have forgotten, haven’t you? I haven’t.”  
  
“I’ve killed too. And so have you, Hannah. Should we all give our lives as retribution?”  
  
“We had to kill or die! He had a choice!”  
  
“No, he didn’t. He killed under threat of death, and not only his own.”  
  
“Don’t twist things to suit you, Hermione! I’m not just talking about the Muggle he killed. You know very well what he did. That night he chose, and every single death that followed falls on him as much as on the rest of the Death Eaters!”  
  
“What sort of crazy logic are you applying here? How can you compare? He was only sixteen!” Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears. “He was a child, Hannah! They are not the same person, the child you knew and the man he is now.”  
  
“Spare me the waterworks, Hermione. Ron had been seventeen only two months before the Battle. Have you forgotten him? Lavender? Colin? Terry? Padma? Shall I go on? The list of dead children is long.”  
  
Hermione paled. “I haven’t forgotten. But it doesn’t make him responsible for the whole war. And it doesn’t give us the right to slay him.”  
  
“In your opinion. I find it debatable.”  
  
“In all justice, Hannah! When have we become vigilantes? What gives you the right to be judge, jury and executioner? How does this hatred make you better than him?” Hermione took a deep breath. “No, don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter.”  
  
  
Hermione got up, ready to leave. She had got her answer, such as it was, and she felt like crying.  
  
  
  
 **London, 3rd March 2004**  
  
  
  
Hermione tried to summon the strength to get ready, since Harry was to arrive within the hour to collect her. The meeting with Shacklebolt was due to take place in just under two hours, and Hermione was fighting to keep her anxiety at bay. Thank Merlin for Harry. He had agreed to help her win Shacklebolt over, and Hermione was sure it wasn’t out of love for Malfoy. But Harry loved her unconditionally. And in Malfoy’s case, he begrudgingly agreed with her that he deserved a chance. Possibly.  
  
  
She was trying to wrestle her hair into a ponytail when her Floo activated.  
  
“Hermione! Are you there?” She ran to her sitting room.  
  
“Winnie! What’s happened? Is he all right?”  
  
“There you are! I’ll never get used to the Floo.” Winnie’s face looked up at her from the embers. “Holy crap, you look like shit, Hermione!” She couldn’t help laughing.  
  
“Always so articulate, Winston. Tell me about Draco.”  
  
“He’s coming to. They brought him out of the coma about an hour ago. The Healers say he should make a full recovery, but it was touch and go for a while there, you know? He’s still pretty much out of it and he keeps mumbling your name. You have to come, Hermione. He needs you here.”  
  
A surge of warmth coursed through her whole body. She smiled, all of a sudden feeling like she could take on the world.  
  
“I’ll go as soon as I can. Harry and I are going to talk to Shacklebolt this afternoon. You know Draco will be transferred straight to the Ministry the moment he’s well enough to travel. I need to work out a deal to keep him from spending the next ten years in Azkaban, Winnie. That’s my priority right now. It’s good that Paolo and you are looking after him. Now that I know he’s going to recover, I’ll be fine.”  
  
“Right. Good luck with that. You know that if you can’t get a good deal you can both abscond to my house, don’t you? The Bahamian Government doesn’t have a Magical Extradition Treaty. Handy, huh?” He laughed and Hermione laughed with him, feeling lighter and happier than she had in days.

  
  


*****

  
  


“So, let me see if I understand.” Shacklebolt turned to Hermione. His impressive height and larger-than-life presence were enough to intimidate anyone. Not Hermione, though. ”You are suggesting that we let your Death Eater toy boy off with a slap on the wrist and a spot of house arrest. Is that it?”  
  
“Basically. And I doubt he qualifies as my toy boy. He’s only nine months younger than me.”  
  
“Sorry, Hermione. No deal.”  
  
“I don’t think you are seeing the bigger picture here, Kingsley.” Harry chipped in. “Malfoy was almost killed in cold blood by a Ministry employee-cum-vigilante. And he’s been sleeping with another very famous Ministry employee. How long do you think it will take him to figure out how to use these facts to his advantage? The Ministry’s reputation would be seriously damaged.”  
  
Kingsley was livid. “Are you threatening me, Harry?”  
  
“Merlin, no! Kings, I’m only pointing out the obvious. And besides, I have to agree with Hermione that some extenuating circumstances should be taken into account. He was a child after all, and in fear for his life and those of his parents. And he did try to help me in his own way when he could.”  
  
“He’s been running for six years.”  
  
  
“So, what would be your best offer?” Hermione was getting impatient.  
  
Kingsley thought hard for several long minutes.  
  
“Two years of strict house arrest. Five further years under a monitoring spell. Thirty three per cent of his assets-“   
  
“Done.” Hermione said.  
  
“I haven’t finished. And I want your word that you will not enter into a relationship with Malfoy during the time of his confinement. No contact at all for the next two years.”  
  
Hermione blanched. “Merlin help me! But why?”  
  
“If I'm agreeing to this it’s to preserve the Ministry’s reputation, nothing more. And your entanglement with a known Death Eater, one who many will think got off lightly, would be a scandal of cosmic proportions right now. In a few years, nobody will care. So. Do you accept my conditions?”  
  
Hermione shot Harry a pleading look. “Unfortunately, what Kingsley is proposing makes sense, Hermione. I’m so sorry.”

  
  


*****

  
  


“Are you crazy, girl?” Paolo’s voice sounded one octave too high. “Drake is going to go berserk! And you want Winnie and I to tell him? What have we ever done to you, Herms?”  
  
“Calm down, Munchkin. Look here, Hermione.” Winston’s face appeared in the embers next to his boyfriend’s, almost merging with him. “Don’t you think it would be prudent that you explained things to him? He might take it slightly better if at least he gets to see you!”  
  
Hermione looked miserable. “I can’t! Kingsley made me take the Vow!”  
  
“You took the Unbreakable Vow? Bloody Hell’s bells, Hermione! There’s no escaping that one! It can’t be broken!”  
  
“I’m aware, Winston. Hence the name.”  
  
“Right! There’s nothing for it then. We’ll call you in an hour.”  
  
  
  
It was the longest hour Hermione had ever experienced. Maybe because she entirely spent it looking at her fireplace. At last, Winnie appeared on her Floo, looking rather miserable.  
  
  
“How did it go?”  
  
“Ah, Hermione! There you are. Listen, I’ll have to call you tomorrow. I’m in a bit of a hurry, you know?”  
  
“That bad, was it? What did he say?”  
  
“No, really, I’ll Floo-call you tomorrow. He’ll have come down by then.”  
  
  
  
  
 **London, 4th March 2004**  
  
  
“Winnie? What did he say?”  
  
He looked at her for the longest time. “I’m sorry, Hermione. He asked me to tell you ‘whothehelldoyouthinkyouare to sign his life away and seal it with a Vow. That if youthinkhe’sgointo-”  
  
“Winston! Slow down! I can’t make out what you are saying!”  
  
“That if you think he’s going to wait around for you youhaveanotherthingcoming. And he said you could gotohell and to bid you goodbyeandgoodriddance.” Winnie took a deep gulp of air after delivering the sodding message.  
  
Hermione couldn’t speak. She stared at Winnie, who waited and waited just staring back.  
  
  
“Hermione, don’t take it to heart. You know he’ll come around. He’s just hurting right now-“  
  
“So am I!”  
  
“Give him some time-“  
  
“Give? I’ve given him enough! My last four years! My life! My career! My… my heart. I’m not giving anymore. Tell him he can go stuff himself.”  
  
“Hermione!”  
  
”Winnie, Paolo and you have been wonderful and I’ll always consider you my friends. So don’t take it personally, but I can’t deal with this now. Look after him, will you? He’s going to lose his mind caged up in that house for two years. Visit him often, ok? He’ll need his friends.”  
  
“Hermione.” Winnie’s voice faltered. “Please don’t be a stranger. You know we love you, girl! And so does he.”  
  
“Got to go, Winnie Bear! Be good!”  
  
  
Hermione closed her Floo connection. Malfoy had made her decision easy. She straightened her back and walked to her bedroom to pack.   
  
  
  
 **Kotosh, near Huánuco, Peru, 3rd April 2006**  
  
  
The archaeological site of Kotosh was, as far as Hermione was concerned, the find of the century. It contained rests of a magical settlement dating back to the Archaic Period, somewhere around 2300-1200 BM. There were enough artefacts to keep Hermione happy, but what held her captivated right then was the possibility that they had found remnants of several wands. The small pieces of wood were understandably much deteriorated, but if Hermione could extract and identify even the smallest fragment of a wand’s core, the repercussions for Magical History would be staggering. They would prove beyond a doubt that wands were in use two thousand years before Merlin. No one had ever been able to ascertain whether Magick had even existed that far back. If Hermione was correct and this were indeed wand fragments, it would prove not only that Magick is older than everyone thought, but that it possibly evolved on Earth at the same time as Muggle life.  
  
  
The field campsite consisted of a total of eight mud huts that served as living quarters for the team and two large mud brick storage units, where the findings were cleaned, catalogued and stored. Hermione walked to her little hut carrying a tray with several samples. She pushed the door open with her foot and walked inside.  
  
  
After thirteen months working here, Hermione had transformed the little place into a cosy residence. Thanks to complex Extension Charms the hut now had two decent sized bedrooms –one of which she had made into a full laboratory- a kitchen diner and a full bathroom. It was haphazardly decorated, but the overall effect was homely and welcoming.   
  
  
Hermione walked into her laboratory and set the tray down, humming quietly to herself. As she picked up the first sample, she heard her Floo activating. She smiled, remembering how hard it had been to get the permits necessary to connect her fireplace to the network. Thank Merlin for Harry, who always had a way of making things happen and who, if Hermione was correct, was probably waiting to speak to her in her sitting room Floo.  
  
“Coming!” She shouted laughingly.   
  
She kneeled in front of the hearth expecting Harry, but it was Winnie who greeted her.  
  
“Hermione! It’s been ages! Girl, you look lovely!”  
  
“Winston, how nice to see you!. Tell me, what exactly do you want?”  
  
“What do you mean? Can’t I just want to see my friend?”  
  
“If that was the case you would have made some rude remark about my appearance.”  
  
“Hm. Listen, darling. You realise his confinement is finished, don’t you?”  
  
“Winnie, please. You know I don’t want to talk about Malfoy.”  
  
“Hermione, he needs to see you.”  
  
…  
  
“Won’t you at least consider it?  
  
“I’m going to close the connection now, Winston. Give my love to Paolo.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“Later!” Hermione closed her Floo. She went back to her laboratory, humming again tonelessly, and trying to still the galloping of her heart.  
  
  
  
 **Kotosh, near Huánuco, Peru, 17th April 2006**  
  
  
“Harry! I haven’t heard from you in weeks! How are you holding up?”  
  
“I’m good. Busy. You know how things are. Hermione, listen, um, I just wanted to tell you that Malfoy has been here to see me. Several times.”  
  
“Harry, not you too! Won’t you all realise I don’t want to know?”  
  
“You need to sort things out. The terms of the Vow have been met. There’s nothing stopping you any longer-”  
  
“I couldn’t give a monkey’s about the Vow! I’m on the verge of a mayor discovery. I love my job. Life here is uncomplicated. I’m happy, Harry. I… I don’t need the heartache”  
  
“So, shall I tell him next time he comes that you don’t love him any longer? Just so that he can move on and stop pestering me, you understand.”  
  
“Oh, for the love of Morgana! What’s wrong with the bunch of you? When have you all turned match-makers? I’m sorry, Harry, but I am very busy. We’ll have to catch up another time.”  
  
  
Harry stared at the now cold Floo for a while before he got off his knees, brushing the soot off his trousers. He turned and looked at the blond man who seemed lost in thought by his window.  
  
“You heard her, Malfoy. She doesn’t want to see you.”  
  
“But she wouldn’t say she doesn’t care for me, either. Please, Potter. Tell me where she is.”  
  
Harry searched his face for something, although he didn’t know what. Malfoy looked back in earnest, not even a smirk marring his features. Harry sighed. “I don’t know. Give me some time to think about it.”  
  
  
  
 **Kotosh, near Huánuco, Peru, 5th June 2006**  
  
  
  
Hermione wasn’t having a good day. A mud wall they were clearing in section C had collapsed as they kneeled beside it searching for more fragments to analyse. She was dirty and wet and her hair was a horrific mess of soil and knots. She walked briskly to her little hut, eager to jump in the shower.  
  
She pushed her door open, and made straight for her bedroom, shedding her muddy clothing as she went and walking naked to the bathroom. Great. No hot water. Hermione sighed. A cold shower wasn’t too bad, normally; but today she had been looking forwards to getting rid of the cold that seemed to have seeped into her bones.  
  
  
After towelling and combing her hair, she put on an oversized t-shirt that had at some point belonged to Harry, not bothering with underwear, and took her wand to light the stove and boil some water. A cup of tea was just what she needed to get rid of the wretched cold.  
  
While the water boiled, Hermione went to light a fire. She was waiting for it to crackle into life when the feeling of being watched overwhelmed her. With her wand poised to attack, she turned around; and then her heart stopped.  
  
  
“Granger, you are slipping. Had that been my intention, you would be dead ten times over.”   
  
  
He was leaning casually against the wall on the far corner of the room closest to the door, twirling his wand between his fingers and watching her with an expression between amusement and hunger. Hermione lost her ability to breathe.  
  
  
Two years. Two bloody long years without seeing him, trying her damnest not to think of the way his hair fell softly over his eyes, of that patrician drawl that turned her insides to mush. Two years of desperate longing, of trying to convince herself she was better off without him, that she didn’t care for him that much, anyway. Two years of building up walls and they came crashing down within two seconds. She couldn’t find her voice.  
  
The kettle whistled.  
  
Hermione was rooted to the spot. The seconds stretched and the kettle kept screaming and she still couldn’t seem to make a move. She watched as Malfoy sauntered to her kitchenette and turned off the stove. He started opening cupboards and took down a teapot, cups and saucers. He put a handful of tea leaves in the pot and added water, spilling it in the process. His hands shook as badly as her wand had a few minutes ago. He was nervous, she realised. Probably just as anxious as she felt, in spite of his offhand behaviour and his nonchalance. Something unlocked within her at the realisation and a spark of amusement tugged at her lips.  
  
  
“What are you doing here?”   
  
“What does it look like? I’m brewing tea.”  
  
“Don’t be such a smartass, it doesn’t suit you.”   
  
“Sugar?”  
  
“Oh, for the love of Circe! I don’t want your stupid tea! We need to talk. And I definitely need something stronger. So please, be of some use and grab the bottle of bourbon I have under the sink.”  
  
  
  
They drank in silence for a while, sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, Hermione still holding her wand. And then, without any warning, Draco kissed her.  
  
It took her by surprise, a kiss that was clumsy and needy and completely wonderful. He tasted of bourbon and something familiar, and she kissed him back, losing herself in the feeling. His hand tangled in her hair as the other went around her waist, drawing her towards him until there was no distance between their bodies. Hermione straddled his legs. She felt her anger slipping away as desire roared loudly in her ears.  
  
His mouth left hers to kiss down her neck, nipping and soothing with his tongue random patterns on her skin. He pressed into her heat, his need obvious. His hand travelled under her shirt and he moaned when he found her bare. His fingers caressed down the turn of her rump and up into her wetness. Hermione cried out against the curve of his neck as her hips jerked forward, seeking more contact with his fingers.  
  
“Draco.” She sounded breathless. He lifted his head and looked at her, cheeks flushed, eyes dark and slightly dazed. She raised her wand and his eyes widened.   
  
With a murmured spell and a flick of her wand, their clothing was gone. Draco sighed a sigh of relief, then whimpered when she ground against his erection. "Please, Draco," she begged, no longer caring as her need overtook her. Her nails were digging into his shoulders and she dove for his mouth then, teeth clashing and tongues meeting and he rammed forwards uncontrollably. His breath caught and she cried out, and they looked at each other, their bodies still.  
  
“I… gods, Granger,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, all right? I wanted you and you left me and I lashed out.” Hermione laughed, and the small friction it created made him whimper.  
  
  
“You are such an arse, Malfoy.” She ground her hips in a circling motion and his eyes fluttered closed. Hermione raised his chin with her wand. “Look at me.”  
  
  
Draco did, cheeks blushing and lips parting as Hermione started moving on him.   
  
“If you –ah… ever behave in such an asinine manner again, I swear –oh, fuck! I swear I’ll hex you six ways from Sunday. Don’t stop… Ah, Merlin, Draco! No more second chances, you hear?”  
  
Draco rose to his knees and pushed her backwards, cradling her head, and then he was lying on top of her. “Oh, gods, I needed to be inside you,” he murmured. “I won’t require another chance, Hermione. Oh, fuck, I can’t…” He rammed into her hard and she felt an unbearable pleasure twisting her insides. She slid her arms under his, clutching at his shoulders for leverage as he increased the pace of his thrusts. She was still holding her wand tight.  
  
Hermione clenched hard on him and he cried out. His pace was becoming erratic and she knew he was very close. “Oh god, oh god, Hermione, I need to come, I can’t hold it!”  
  
“Don’t! I need to feel you. I want... Let go, Draco.”  
  
“Will you –gods, fuck! Lower your wand, Hermione! I can't come at wandpoint… gods, don't stop!”  
  
His arms were shaking badly, and Hermione tilted her pelvis, changing the angle. He slammed into her roughly, his pace quickening, moaning deeply at the new sensation. She reached down between their bodies and touched herself gingerly. Her walls tightened harshly and she cried out, her rhythmical contractions triggering his climax.He felt his world imploding and snapped his hips forwards hard and fast. With a hoarse cry he tumbled over the edge.  
  
Later, as their breathing eased and their heartbeats settled, he held her flush against his body. “I’d never come at wandpoint before, you know?” he panted. Hermione chuckled.  
  
“There is always a first time.” She cupped his cheek and gently kissed his lips. “Happy birthday, Draco.”  
  
  
  
 **Providence Island, 22nd October 2006**  
  
  
  
Hermione exited the wretched Nassau Airport feeling none the worse for having flown there from Miami. As far as she was concerned, private jets were the way to go. Not that she had noticed much, busy as she was during the short flight.   
  
“Drake! Herms! Over here!” Hermione smiled when she saw the two boys waiting next to Winnie’s shiny blue Mustang. “Come on, we’ve been waiting for ages!”  
  
  
It felt like coming home.

 

 

Palms House was just as beautiful as she remembered. They had a light lunch laid out for them, and they all took their usual places around the table.  
  
  
“I want to thank you for lending us the Albatross,” Draco said. Hermione smiled, twining her fingers with his.  
  
“Yes, I have to say, she’s the most beautiful yacht in the world. I’m rather fond of her.”  
  
“My pleasure,” Paolo said. “You could have her for more than a week, though. There is no rush, you know.” Draco chuckled.  
  
“Thanks, but Granger needs to be back in Peru next week. And I’ve decided to lend her a hand-“  
  
“Granger?” Winnie looked at them, puzzled. “But I thought-“  
  
“She’ll always be Granger to me.” Draco looked at Hermione and smiled, and her heart melted for the millionth time.  
  
  
  
  
The Albatross sailing away into the sunset was a sight to behold. Winnie slipped his arm across Paolo’s shoulders, hugging him tight as they both watched the ship from the dock.  
  
“About time they got their shit together.”  
  
“U-huh!” Paolo said. “Took them long enough. You know, Winnie, I was thinking, the Andes is an awfully uncivilised place to live, don’t you think?”  
  
Winston raised an eyebrow. “What do you have in mind, then?”  
  
“Well, if you don’t have anything planned for tomorrow, we could go have a look at a couple of state agents.” Winnie laughed hard, and Paolo bristled. “It’s not such a bad idea, you know? No need to laugh!”  
  
Winnie kissed him soundly. “I’ve already arranged a viewing for them in a week’s time. There is a lovely property for sale in my street!”  
  
Paolo smiled, tightening his arms around Winnie’s waist.  
  
“Great minds think alike, and all that. That’s one of the reasons I love you, you know.”  
  
“Good. Let’s go home and I’ll let you tell me all the other reasons. In minute detail.”  
  
  
Paolo chuckled, starting towards the house. Oh, yes. Life was good.

 


End file.
